#but we hiked the car path instead

[sweet-honey-bubbles-127]

Chino Hills, CA

[teapartyprincess4two]

Carnal Desires- M. Sturniolo

pairing: girlfriend!reader x boyfriend!Matt

classification: smut

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, slight cursing, oral sex, established relationship, short, no use of y/n

inspiration: request, I put a big spin on this request lolol bc I’ve written car sex before and felt like we needed something different

summary: You join Matt and his family on a vacation, and get lost together while on a hike. Instead of freaking out, you two take advantage of the sudden alone time.

—

This vacation was supposed to be fun for you, full of laughter and adventures as you and Matt’s family explored the island and all it had to offer. You were looking forward to spending alone time with Matt in between the week’s packed schedule, maybe sneak in a session or two, but instead you were forced to share a room with Nick.

You love Nick and you wouldn’t mind sharing a room with him under any other circumstances, but all you wanted was quality time with your boyfriend. Mary Lou made the room arrangements, and although she knows you and Matt were having sex regularly, it wasn’t going to happen under her watch. So, instead of enjoying your time in paradise with your boyfriend, you’re being tortured and touch-starved.

Matt feels the same way every time he sees you wearing a bikini at the pool, a pair of shorts that hug you just right, or even when you’re eating and he watches your lips wrap around a fork. All he wants to do is drag you away and fuck you in the nearest secluded area, but he had to remind himself to keep his interactions with you family friendly.

This was going to be such a long trip to say the least.

—

“Watch your step, baby,” Matt instructs, pointing towards the rocks that litter the path ahead. You hated hiking, especially in the hot island sun, but the tour guide promised a waterfall at the end that you just couldn’t pass up. You offer Matt a kind smile, holding onto him for support as you trudge further and further up the mountain. His arm stiffens as he supports your weight, helping you push yourself up a large rock.

His eyes trail up your legs, the shorts you’re wearing riding up slightly and exposing your asscheek. All week he’s struggled to keep his hands off of you, especially with his family so close all the time. But they’re pretty far up the hiking trail, he wonders if he’ll have enough time to push you up against the rock, pull down your shorts, and finally fuck you.

He debates it for a while, chewing the inside of his lip to distract himself from the growing sensation in his pants, but he’s broken from his thoughts by your voice, “Matt c‘mon we’re gonna get lost out here!” You’re crouched at the edge of the rock, stretching an arm out for him which causes your top to fall forward just enough to expose the bikini you’re wearing underneath.

All he wants to do is rip it off and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. “I’m coming,” he grunts, taking a hold of your hand and using the other to push himself up. He’s sweaty and sunburnt, slowly becoming tired of this dumb hike. You can tell he’s becoming overwhelmed and annoyed, so you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Don’t be so grumpy,” you tease with a downturned smile, pecking his lips playfully. His jaw is clenched, trying to stretch his neck far enough for you to miss his mouth. Your lips fall on his jaw, feathering a few kisses down his neck teasingly. “C’mon baby, just a little smile,” you continue to tease, your breath tickling the skin of his neck.

A small chuckle finally escapes his mouth, his tough guy demeanor crumbling and being replaced with a playful expression. “Why are you so grumpy?” your tone is still cheery because, despite also being tired, you’re trying to remain positive.

“Because we’re lost,” he replies blankly, allowing his arms to snake around your waist until his arms rest comfortable on your ass. He squeezes your ass, massaging the skin shortly after. You see the opportunity for a corny remark and take it, “I’m not lost if I’m with you.”

This causes him to burst out in laughter, finally giving in and returning the kiss, “you’re so fucking corny.” You smile into the kiss, you knew exactly what to do to make him feel better.

“I can make you feel better,” you reply between kisses, allowing your lips to travel further down his jawline and neck. He hums in response, the suggestion immediately sending blood rushing to his dick. You take this as an invitation to go through with your actions, slowly kneeling in front of Matt until you’re facing his crotch.

He watches in shock and excitement as you wiggle into the ground and begin unbuckling his shorts. Were you really going to suck his dick in the middle of the dense jungle? What if someone else came through the hiking path? Or worse, what if his family emerged from the dense flora and caught you with his dick in your mouth? As frightening as the idea was, it was also exciting, and Matt never the type to turn down a blowjob.

He watches in awe as you pull his shorts down, palming his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You kiss his penis through the cloth, waiting for a reaction from Matt. “Don’t tease,” he groans, causing you to finally slowly pull his boxers down.

Once it’s free, Matt’s hard dick slaps against his stomach, precum already forming at the red, swollen tip. You take a firm grip of him, slowly pumping and placing a sloppy kiss on his tip. He tastes salty, his precum mixing with the sweat from having hiked for hours.

His jaw is slack and his eyes are scrunched as you finally wrap your mouth around his tip. You’d usually take your time and tease Matt until he was begging for you to do something, but you’re so hungry for him that you can’t help but deep throat him instantly. Matt’s tip hits the back of your throat, causing him to instinctively buck his hips into your mouth.

Strong hands take a hold of your hair, creating a make-shift ponytail to provide him with the leverage necessary to fuck your face. You’re gagging around his cock, his hips snapping into your face and his hands pushing your head back and forth. Tears brim at your eyes with each thrust, your hands holding onto Matt’s thighs both for support and in an attempt to slow his movements.

He’s unrelenting, though, forgetting entirely about your need for oxygen. You moan around him, cheeks hollowing tight enough to help push Matt past his breaking point. His eyes are training on you, watching in awe as bubbles of saliva drip down your chin.

“So. Fucking. Sexy,” he grunts with each thrust, pulling out completely with a loud pop. Matt pumps his cock from above your face, giving you enough time to catch your breath before you’re opening your mouth again for him. He groans at your willingness to please, placing his fat, heavy cock on your flat tongue.

You scoot closer to him eagerly, waiting for him to paint your tongue with his cum. “So beautiful and eager,” he murmurs, stroking his cock one last time before unloading his cum in your mouth. Some of it shoots out far enough to land on your face, engraving an image in Matt’s head that he’s sure to use later.

One of your fingers scoops up the stray cum that frosted tour face, popping the remnants in your mouth as you stare intently at Matt. You want him to remember this for the remainder of this trip, to think about you on your knees with his cum on your face. You want him to remember how well you took his cock and for images of you to flood his mind at night, forcing him to find you and fuck you in another secluded, undisclosed location.

Without another word, you kiss his tip and spring up from the floor. “I think they went this way,” you say, pointing in a random direction, but if you were being honest you lost track of the group long before you dropped to your knees. Matt watches you in confusion, how were you able to recover so easily while he still stood there with his cock out? He’s barely coming down from his high, but he pulls his pants up and follows you anyway.

Matt’s skeptical, not entirely trusting your sense of direction. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like anyone’s gone that way… ever,” he replies, taking in his surroundings. You wave him off, pushing through highly forested terrain as you attempt to find the group again.

“I’m sure. We’ll be fine,” you dismiss, leading the way deeper into the jungle. Hopefully Matt remained in a good mood for the rest of the hike, if not you’d be forced to work your magic again.

—

At this point you don’t know which way is left and which is right, you’re just walking for the sake of moving. There are no trails in sight, but there are rocks at every twist and turn, and the sun is beginning to set. “I think we’re lost,” you finally admit, stopping abruptly in your tracks and doing a full 360 in an attempt to relocate yourself.

“You think?” Matt replies in a sarcastic tone, running an exasperated hand through his hair. You ignore his tone, chalking it up to the hike having worn him out. He was easily irritable, but you knew of a few ways to fix that.

“Well I hear water this way. That could be the waterfall?” you say, throwing a thumb behind you to signal that that’s where you hear the water coming from. Matt’s equally as lost as you are, but since you were the one leading the way it was easy to place the blame on you. “It could be, but what if it isn’t?” he retorts, raising his voice slightly.

“We’re already lost, Matt. What does it matter if it isn’t the waterfall?” you reply, mocking his voice slightly as you send him an annoyed look. You decide to just ignore him and begin walking towards the water instead of arguing in the middle of a deserted island, surrounded by dense vegetation and predators that were sure to wake when the sun set.

Matt throws his hands up in the air out of frustration as he follows behind you. If you were Chris or Nick he probably would’ve lashed out at you already, but he bites his tongue because he realizes that there’s no point in arguing. The only reason he’s responding so harshly is because he’s letting the situation and his pent up sexual frustration get the best of him.

The water gets louder the further you walk and the air becomes cooler. Finally, after pushing past vines and leaves, you see the roaring stream of water. Foam forms at the edge of the cliff where the water meets the ground, creating a large pool deep enough to swim in. It was such a beautiful sight, you couldn’t help but immediately throw your backpack to the ground and kick your shoes off.

“Told you it was the waterfall,” you say in excitement, suddenly feeling energetic again. You make swift work of your shirt, removing it before unbuckling your shorts. Matt’s equally as excited, tugging his shorts off as he watches you shimmy out of yours.

Your ass jiggles each time you pull at your shorts, finally revealing the bikini you wore underneath. Matt’s in his boxers, the fabric loose around his thighs but becoming tight around his crotch. He’s no longer frustrated with you, all he can think about is fucking you in the water, the water splashing each time he bucks into you.

His carnal, animalistic desires overrun his mind as images of you on the jungle floor with his cock balls deep in your mouth replay in his head. Matt joins you in the cool water, ready to have another adventure with you.

—

The sun has set and the moon has now replaced its position in the sky, shining down on you both while you effortlessly wade through the water. The pool is deep enough to reach your shoulders, but it reaches Matt’s lower chest. The loud, relentless waterfall makes it hard to hear Matt when he speaks so you’re forced to press your face against his to hear him.

“You look so sexy, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his face so close to yours that you can feel his stubble graze your cheek with each word. Matt’s hands pull you close to him from under the water, allowing your legs to wrap around his torso as he supports your weight. Your ass settles just above his crotch, inches away from his throbbing penis.

You hum in response, pulling your face away slightly to capture his lips in a kiss. Nature managed to provide you with the perfect ambiance, perfectly secluded from all civilization for the first time this week. “I missed you all week,” you whispered into the kiss, giving Matt the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He’s immediately moaning into the kiss, his tongue lapping in your sweet juices. He places two strong hands on your ass, pushing you down on his growing erection, eliciting a strained whimper from you. “Feel that?” he grunts, forehead flush with yours as he presses his crotch so hard on yours you can feel everything. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for a reaction.

Your core clenches instinctively at his words, you wish you could feel him. It seems like the waterfall becomes louder the more worked up you become, both of you blissfully unaware of the world around you. The stars are twinkling from above and the moon is shining directly on the pool of water you swim in, serving as a spotlight for the show you and Matt were about to put on.

His mouth is back on you, hungrily trailing kisses down the wet skin of your neck. He stops right above your collar bone, sucking and biting the skin until it’s purple. You’re gripping his hair and grinding down onto him, allowing the water to help you move effortlessly. All you want is to feel him closer after an entire week apart.

“Matt, just fuck me already,” you moan, becoming desperate for his touch. Usually he’d tease you and tell you to be patient, but even he was desperate for relief. He pulls you into another kiss, swiftly tugging his cock out of his boxers in the process. You try adjusting yourself over Matt, his fingers expertly moving your bikini to the side, causing you to squirm slightly as the fabric presses against your sensitive clit.

“Stay still,” he grumbles, aligning his cock with your entrance. You immediately do as you you’re told, eager to please and even more eager to feel him inside you. Without a second thought, his left hand is pushing you down on him and the right is keeping his cock in place. An immediate sigh of relief leaves Matt’s mouth once he bottoms out inside of you, adjusting himself so he’s able to support you from under your thighs. The sensation is euphoric, causing Matt’s knees to tremble as he tries to ground himself on the rocky floor beneath him.

Your legs are wrapped around Matt’s waist, using the position as leverage to begin bouncing up and down on his dick slowly. The momentum of your movements causes the water to push and pull around you, slapping against your chest with each thrust. “I missed this,” he moans, eyes squeezed tight as he tries to compose himself. The feeling is so pent up that he’s sure to bust in seconds, so he focuses on lasting long so he can make you feel good.

“I missed this too, baby. So much,” you reply, hanging on by Matt’s shoulders as you throw your head back in pleasure. You’re clenching around him, your pussy sucking him in deeper. Loud moans are coming from both of you, the waterfall swallowing them and washing them away.

Matt watches as your boobs bounce violently, threatening to spill out of your tight bikini top. It’s like they’re teasing him, willing him to pull the bikini off and toss it deep into the jungle. He yanks it down before he can stop himself, freeing your tits and immediately groaning at the sight.

You look so sexy on top of him, taking him like a champ and giving him a show while doing it. His hips rut into you quickly, balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your tits press against his chest, sensitive nipples grazing against his skin.

He’s fucking you so hard and fast at this point that his dick slips out of you, slapping against your clit in the process. The sensation causes your legs to shake and your core to clench once again. “Fuck,” he whimpers at the loss of contact, taking a hold of his cock and rubbing it against your pussy.

Matt manages to slip back into your folds aggressively, pounding into you at the same relentless pace from before. This was the sloppiest sex you’d ever had with Matt, but after a week completely deprived of him you’d gladly welcome it.

You’re both soaked, somehow managing to float under the waterfall. The pressurized water rains down on you, the stream coming down on you so hard it unties your bikini causing it to float downstream. “Matt! My top,” you gasp, reaching for your bikini and pushing your boobs together in the process.

Matt groans at the sight, your pillowy breasts bouncing as he fucks you like it’s the first and last time. Your spongy walls push against his penis, causing a sensation that sends him past his breaking point.

“We’ll get it later,” he responds between grunts, snapping his hips into you one last time before unloading his cum inside you. Just because he’s no longer moving doesn’t mean you aren’t still bouncing on his dick, causing it to twitch from the sensitivity.

“Babe,” he chuckles, his body instinctively attempting to pull away as the overstimulation becomes too much. You ignore him, chasing your climax with each jump. All he can do is hold onto you firmly and use all his strength to prevent his knees from buckling.

Finally, you’re convulsing around his cock and moaning loudly as your orgasm washes over your body. The sight is beautiful, your wet hair stuck to your skin, and your eyes rolling so far to the back of your head that all Matt sees is white.

He feels a sense of pride in making you feel this good, he’s never seen you react this animated during sex before. The combination of the location, the stimulation from the water, and the pent up sexual frustration being enough to intensify your orgasm.

Matt pulls you off of him slowly, gently placing you back down on the rocky floor. He gives you a goofy, fucked out smile as he glances down at your bare chest. Your bikini top is floating down stream quickly, threatening to get lost in the wilderness with each passing second. Your arms are quick to wrap around your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like you weren’t just having the loudest sex ever.

“I’ll get it,” he chuckles, adjusting his boxers and swimming downstream effortlessly towards your top. You thank God for sending you such an observant and kind boyfriend, one who was willing to make you feel good and then take care of you afterwards.

Once he reaches it, he throws the bikini your way, causing water to splash in your face. Even though he was just balls deep in you, you find yourself turning your back to him while you put the bikini back on. He’s too busy swimming against the stream to notice though, the realization of how lost you truly were finally settling in.

For now, though, the two of you were content with a night under the stars away from prying eyes.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

🤰🏻

Me after writing this

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

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[hotshotsxyz]

“ just… be honest with me, do you hate me? “ for Buddie

(buddie) (869 words) this prompt screams angst, which is. the exact opposite of what i did with it. whoops!

“You asshole,” Eddie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We agreed—”

“I know, I know,” Buck says, “But just—trust me?”

Eddie sighs. “I’m going to break up with you one of these days,” he threatens.

“No you won’t,” Buck replies with a sunny grin.

He’s right, obviously, but he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. Eddie makes a noncommittal noise and climbs into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“At least tell me where we’re going?” Eddie asks, not especially optimistic he’ll get an answer.

“Nope!”

Eddie groans. “I hate you, you know that?”

Buck snorts. “M’hm, sure, definitely seemed like you hated me this morning.”

“Yeah, well, see if I do that again any time soon,” Eddie snarks.

Buck laughs, loud and bright. It’s hard to summon even playful irritation in the face of Buck’s obvious joy, but Eddie’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it the ol’ college try.

They take a circuitous route out of LA and up through the canyons to Malibu. There’s a small farmers market on the way, one they’ve been to once or twice before, and Buck insists they stop for strawberries. Eddie insists on buying peach jam, mostly because he likes it and Buck doesn’t. Instead of rising to the bait, Buck swings by the bakery tent and grabs a loaf of sourdough to go with it. Dick.

“C’mon,” Buck says, once they’ve secured their purchases in a backpack that’s apparently been in the back the entire time. “We’re leaving the car here.”

“Oh, so you’re torturing me with physical activity for our anniversary, I guess that isn’t a gift after all,” Eddie says, just to be contrary. He loves hiking, and they both know it.

Buck rolls his eyes. “It’s a ten minute walk, fifteen tops. I won’t even make you carry anything.”

“My hero,” Eddie says, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest.

Buck locks the Jeep and bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s. “You coming?”

“Under duress,” he replies, but he’s pretty sure the grin on his face gives the game away.

True to Buck’s word, it takes just over ten minutes to reach their apparent destination. The path was entirely up hill, though, and Eddie makes sure to get some mileage out of that.

The view from the small overlook at the top, though, is pretty impossible to complain about. The ocean stretches out infinitely before them, brilliantly blue and glittering.  It’s the kind of place where the rest of the world just… falls away.

Eddie loves it. Buck knows he loves it.

“Fine,” Eddie says, “You win. This is perfect.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks from behind him.

“You know it is,” Eddie says. He tears his eyes away from the horizon and—

Oh.

That’s—

Buck’s spread a large picnic blanket on the ground behind him, and it’s a ridiculous first thought to have, but sue him, Eddie’s feels like his brain is doing a hard reset, because—

Because—

Because Buck is on one knee and he’s got a small black ring box in his hand and his eyes are already shining and Eddie’s never loved someone the way he loves Buck.

“Eddie,” Buck says, and it’s just his name but the love and devotion in it takes away his breath.

“There’s not a lot I haven’t said to you,” Buck continues. “But you know me, I like to talk.”

Eddie nods vigorously, entirely incapable of forming words of his own.

“And there’s—there’s no one else in this world I want to spend the rest of my life talking to,” he says, huffing a small laugh at his own expense.

“Eds, you’re—you’re the sun,” he says, and Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him that can’t be true, because he’s already looking at the brightest light on the planet.

“You’ve been making everything better and brighter since the day we met. Getting to love you is—is the greatest privilege of my life, and I’m kind of hoping you’ll let me keep doing it forever.”

A small noise punches it’s way out of Eddie’s chest, and it’s only then that it occurs to him that he might need to breathe for the part he’s pretty sure is coming next.

 “So, Eddie Diaz,” Buck says as the first of what Eddie’s sure will be many tears slips down his cheek, “will you marry me?”

Eddie drops to his knees and takes Buck’s face in his hands and brushes the tear away with his thumb. There are a hundred things he wants to say, but he still hasn’t managed to take that breath, and, really, only one of them is important right now.

A mischievous expression flashes across Buck’s face. “Just… be honest with me,” he says, a little smug, “do you hate me?”

“Yes,” Eddie finally gasps.

Buck jerks in surprise. “Yes?”

“No, not—yes I’ll marry you,” Eddie says in a rush.

“Oh,” Buck says with a grin. “Well, that’s a relief because—”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish. He crashes his lips against Buck’s. He kisses his fiancé. He’s not sure he knew it was possible to be this happy.

He can’t believe the asshole beat him to it. Eddie loves him so much.

[leclerity]

you kiss him first

Charles Leclerc x Former Childhood Friend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you talk about the reasons why you haven't seen each other in ten years... and there may have been some miscommunications all this time. a/n: another angsty one, with another happy ending, as always - thank you for all the support on the fics so far!

The Monaco air is crisp as you step out of the door, leaving the laughter of your parents and family friends behind. You note you forgot how warm Monaco can be, even in the evenings, and Charles Leclerc laughs, reminding you that you’ve been away for too long.

Certainly long enough for childhood friends to become distant acquaintances, at best.

“It’s weird to think we used to play around these streets,” you say. “We were so stupid. It was dangerous!”

“Well, we were kids.” Charles shrugs. “We thought we knew best.”

He leads you away from his parents’—now mother’s—house and after a moment, you recognise the route as your old path up the hills, to the best vantage points the city could offer. You climb with the expertise of someone whose feet have wandered up the trails a million times before, even if it’s been a decade since the last time.

“I always thought we might get hit by a car someday, but I didn’t care,” you say. “And look at you now, driving cars for a living.”

“Means I get hit by more often than an average person. So, you were right.”

“Right. Just like always.”

“Yeah. You were always right, you know.”

Something about the way he says it, looking at the hill beneath his feet instead of you, sends shivers down your spine.

The further outside the city you go, the quieter it gets. Dozens of memories fly past your eyes, all of the same hike, with the same person by your side, only a child, a teenager.

“What was I right about?”

Charles doesn’t look at you, nor does he answer. You keep hiking in silence and you find yourself getting antsy, fidgeting with a loose string hanging off your t-shirt.

When you get to the top, it’s peaceful. It always has been. You see the whole city from here, all of the lights shining brighter as the sun sets in the distance, and you can’t help but wonder – what went wrong?

So you ask.

He laughs, but it’s nervous. When you look at him, his white shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and the khaki shorts look too expensive against the dirty ground. He’s still got the same pretty face, the dimples in his smile, but he’s a far cry from the boy you grew up with.

“I don’t see the point in talking about it now,” he says.

“If not now, when? It’s been ten years already.”

“Never,” he says. “If I can choose.”

You turn to face him, the sights of Monaco be damned. “Why? We were good, Charles. I was supporting you with your karting, you were supporting me with all the hobbies I ever did…”

“We were good,” he agrees, but it’s almost sad. As if there’s no way back. As if whatever happened, it’s irreversible.

“No, you don’t get to just up and decide you’re never going to speak to your best friend again. You just… You don’t get to do that!”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “You’re right.”

“So what’s the issue?! I mean, I thought you were going to be by my side at the altar someday!”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling again, but you can see the watery reflection in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, and for a moment you wonder what was it that you said that was enough to make him cry, and…

“That was the issue,” Charles says, softly. “I’d be by your side.”

You feel yourself frown. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It’s not.” He looks at you and you finally see the tears, the redness of his cheeks, and the emotion he’d been restraining for who knows how long. “I didn’t want to be by your side.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N—”

“No. It’s okay. I get it.”

You move a little further from him, pretending your heart hadn’t just been stabbed, but he scoots right back next to you.

“Y/N, let me finish.” When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I wanted to stand opposite of you. That was the issue.”

“Opposite of—oh.”

The past rewrites itself in your head, all those little moments that ever confused you suddenly being crystal clear. You see all the hints you missed or saw and ignored – the refusals to talk about your crushes, the distancing that began when you got into your first relationship, even though it lasted not even two weeks…

And the absence of contact when your family moved away.

“Charles,” you say. “What are you—I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t see me the way I saw you,” he says, “and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

And—in a moment of unprecedented courage—you look him straight in the eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

A look flashes over your face that tells you he’s experiencing a rewriting of the same kind you experienced moments ago. The moments when you held his hand for a little too long as a kid, when you cheered him on the track even when you were supposed to be on a date, when you listened to him vent about his brothers. You know these moments – and you hope that now, he can see them for what they were, too.

You put a hand on his cheek. He leans into it immediately, as if coming home.

“You know,” you whisper, “I don’t think there’s a moment of my life I didn’t love you. Even the past ten years… All I could do was miss you.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I hated myself for staying away, but I had to. I thought I had to.”

“If you just asked…”

He laughs, again, and it’s nervous all the same – but his hand is on your knee and he’s leaning in, and the air between you is charged. “Asked what? ‘Hey, Y/N, how’s your day? Also, do you happen to be in love with me, too?’ Is that what I should’ve asked?”

“Yes. And I would’ve said yes.”

He sighs; his eyes drop to your lips. “You’re telling me I wasted ten years because I was afraid?”

“Both of us were.”

“So, now…”

You become acutely aware of the distance between the two of you – all it would take is to lean in, ever so slightly, and the friendship barrier would be crossed. As if it hadn’t been crossed all those years ago, before you even knew what love or friendship were.

You smile. “Now you kiss me.”

“Tempting,” he says. “There’s one problem, though.”

“There is?”

Charles’s smile mirrors yours, wide and delighted. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you say, and you kiss him first.

[trashland-llamas]

Neck of the Woods

Note; reader is alluded to having problems walking in that sometimes they can and sometimes they can't

Gn! Reader

Reader who invites Jason out to their neck of the woods for a hike. Nothing too strenuous for the vigilante as they're really just going to the nearby park. But with all the connected trails, it's a pretty good workout, all things considered.

To Jason, there's such a stark contrast between the parks in Gotham and this one. There's both less population and less walk-ability where Reader lives. In Gotham, even the parks are crowded. But here, there's barely anyone except the regular walkers.

He doesn't know how to feel about it. Relaxed in the sense that he feels like there's more room to breathe. But with how secluded the area is, he feels more on edge. Reader picks up on this, links their hands together. If it's too hot, only the pinkies.

Reader who quickly becomes confused when every walker they cross paths with starts to avoid them. Instead, speeding up their pace. Blatantly ignoring the greeting they give. Looking back at Jason, they realize he's taken to being their scary dog privilege.

Squared shoulders, straight mean mugging. Easily carrying Reader's bag that holds a few water bottles mixed with some juice packet, a pair of headphones, walking poles, and a hoodie if it gets cold/rains.

Seeing how tired they are afterwards, Jason helps them into the car. Glad that his travels made him have to use one of the bat-cars instead of his motorcycle. Speeding 20 miles over the speed limit even down the back roads.

The tracker on it makes the other bat siblings worry. 'What is Jason up to? Why is he in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?' Tim asks, confused as to why Bruce isn't furious, assuming Jason had stolen said car. 'He's with Reader, they're cute together,' comes Cassandra's response.

'I know you want to sleep, but let's get you showered and then we can go to bed,' His voice is low and sweet as he gently guides them to the bathroom. Sitting Reader on the counter while he goes to grab a change of clothes for the two of them.

'Lift your arms up for me, bub.' He instructs after undressing their lower half. Having messaged the muscles as he went. 'Thank you. Think you're gonna need the shower chair?' asking once he's removed their shirt. 'Can't you just hold me up?'

'I'll take that as a yes.' Jason circumvents the question because yes, he could hold him up with the amount of muscles he had but didn't want to hurt them. Knowing if their legs fully gave out, he could risk a dragging related injury.

With the chair set up, he picks them up, settling them down in it. Keeping the door open as he goes through their routine. The water cascades over the sleeves of his shirt. Not that he cares. 'You're all wet.'

'That I am, hun.' He remarks, patting them dry with a towel. Glad they're still talking to him. Pulling the sweatpants up their legs and a hoodie of his over their torso.

Picking them up into a bridal carry, lightly flopping them on the bed. Even with their fish legs, Jason doesn't treat them like they're made of glass. Aware that they'd been able to get through life by themselves just fine this far. But he'll always be there to try and make life a little easier for them.

'Get some sleep hun, I'll wake you up around dinner time.' Plugging in an electric blanket to place along the back of their knees with the duvet on top. Going to his side, Jason's quick to take his spot as the big spoon.

[shadowdaddies]

Camping Trip

For @ruhnweek day 1: family

Summary: Ruhn spends the weekend with Ace and Brann while Lidia is out of town.

“How are we supposed to know what to do around here?” Ace grumbled from behind his phone. Ruhn refrained from rolling his eyes at the teenager’s attitude - he’d dealt with worse from Bryce when she was younger.

Instead, Ruhn watched as Ace’s lips thinned, eyes softening as through the conversation had struck a nerve. Turning to where Brann slouched on the opposite end of the sofa, golden eyes shifting to meet his with a noncommittal shrug.

Running a hand through onyx locks, Ruhn sighed. “That’s valid, Ace. I shouldn’t expect you guys to know what to do in Lunathion. But we’re not going to sit on our asses all weekend while your mom is gone, so if there’s anything either of you want to do or see, now’s the time to tell me.”

The twins exchanged a look, silent communication passing between the two of them. This time is was Brann who gave a shrug, Ace clearing his throat. “Well, we’ve seen the city... But Brann and I never really got to spend time outside, like above water, you know?”

Ruhn’s face spread into a grin, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans as the plan came to him. “Alright, get up then,” he jerked his chin at the boys. “Grab your bags and get ready to leave.”

“To go where?” Ace questioned, face finally peering fully over his phone for the first time since he’d arrived. 

Calling out over his shoulder, Ruhn strode towards his own room to pack. “We’re going camping.”

Twenty minutes later, the car was packed up and a map was handed to Ace. “You’re our navigator since my phone’ll lose signal up in the mountains,” Ruhn said, turning to Brann. “And you’ll be in charge of music. Let’s go.”

Making it to the campsite in record time, Ruhn couldn’t help but be proud of Ace’s directions - the teenager was even more detail-oriented than Declan. They unpacked the car, both boys complaining when Ruhn insisted that they help set up the tent, but their expressions had lightened during the car ride.

Ruhn tried to keep his face neutral, not letting Ace or Brann see him noticing how they marveled at the large pine trees or the sun reflecting off the lake. “Come on, let’s go for a swim,” Ruhn suggested as he watched Brann take a picture of the lake. “I’ve got a specific spot to show you.”

After a short hike up a winding path, the three males arrived at a cliff. Large trees parted on either side, the earth dropping off so suddenly that if you looked up, it seemed as though you might be flying over the waters.

Ruhn stepped right up to the ledge before turning to look at the twins, violet eyes shimmering with mischief in the afternoon sun. “My friends and I had a tradition here. At the start of each year of college, we’d take a camping trip out here. And everyone - including the new guys - would jump off this cliff into the water.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at the slightly alarmed expression Brann held, Ace’s gaze unfaltering in a silent challenge - a challenge that Ruhn was happy to take. “See you down there,” Ruhn called with a mocking wave before running over the edge.

The cool water crashed around him, stealing the breath from his lungs as he plunged deep beneath the surface before feeling his weight slowly rise back up. Breaking back through, Ruhn gasped for air, wiping black hair from his eyes only to feel water splash across his face again, and again.

Finally able to see, he found the sources of each splash on either side of him, Ace and Brann both wearing cocky grins that showed how proud they were of taking the dare. “Nice. It took Flynn a lot longer to get the courage for that jump,” Ruhn commented casually before swimming back toward shore and the campsite.

They dried off at the tent, the sun setting low in the sky when Ruhn pulled out the cooler with ingredients for hot dogs and s’mores. Brann helped gather wood while Ace set up the food and plates, and Ruhn showed them how to make s’mores, chuckling at how well-received the new dessert was by them.

The weekend went by too quickly, so much so that feet were dragging and smiles fading by the time they needed to pack up the car. The drive was quiet and peaceful back to Lunathion, where Lidia waited for them back at home.

Ruhn sucked in a breath at her beauty, those golden eyes trained on him as she smirked. Dropping his bags, he strode to where she stood and pulled her in for a kiss, ignoring the groans from the teenagers behind them as he did so. 

“I missed you,” he murmured.

“You smell like lake water,” Lidia grinned back, laughing before she pulled him in for another chaste kiss. “And I missed you.”

“You all smell like the lake,” Lidia teased, nose scrunching up as she pulled Ace and Brann in for hugs. “What, you couldn’t get out of the water for just a weekend?”

Ace rolled his eyes, shimmering golden like his mother’s as he voiced his protest. “We were out of the water plenty. We went kayaking, hiking, made s’mores...”

Brann slipped his bag from his shoulder, pulling out his phone to show her the pictures he’d taken. “There were so many of these pine trees - it was incredible,” he explained, absentmindedly taking a seat with Lidia next to him.

“Oh, show her the picture we took up by the cliff,” Ace interjected, leaning on the edge of the sofa. Ruhn smiled, full of admiration and love as he watched his family. Listening to their excited voices as the twins told their mom about the weekend, Ruhn turned to get the rest of the camping gear from the car when a voice stopped him.

“Hey, Ruhn,” Ace said, the most reserved Ruhn had seen him yet. “Thanks for this weekend.” 

Giving a quick nod, Ruhn didn’t let them see before he stepped out the door, tears lining his eyes with joy as he thought back to the days when he lived with the Autumn King. He’d never imagined living a life as fulfilling as this - one with hope, excitement for the future, and true family.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Slide (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: T - language, suggestiveness, whump/blood/injury Word count: 5.4k

Summary: Benedict takes you on holiday to a remote bothy in the Scottish highlands. But things do not go according to plan.

Author's Note: This is an anon request fill for Benedict and Reader stranded in a cabin with an illness/injury. You can't threaten me with a whumpy good time, because this idea completely took over my brain and I wrote it in a day. 😅 Enjoy

“We should take advantage of the break in the rain. Let’s go on a little hike.”

“A hike?” You looked up from the sofa where you sat curled with a book. Benedict was standing by the door of the bothy, excitedly pulling on a coat. You had been having a relaxing holiday. Five days in a private luxury bothy in the Scottish highlands. He had been coming to the spot alone for years to paint and now wanted to share it with you under the pretense of your dating anniversary. You didn’t know if you believed such things deserved celebration, but your work in the city had been draining you lately and the reprieve was much appreciated. 

As luck would have it, your trip coincided with the rainiest weather in decades. It was always raining somewhere in Scotland but this was something else entirely. Torrential downpours for sporadic periods each day. But that hadn’t dampened your time together. Thus far, four days of nothing but lie-ins and fireside bottles of wine; reading while Benedict painted from imagination; lazy sex in the mornings and raucous sex at night. It was a bit dangerous that the bed was lofted, as your activities threatened to send you flying off of it. The little hideaway was so secluded that there was no internet and no cell signal, and that was one of the reasons Benedict loved it so much. He said he could hear his muse more clearly without the rest of the world butting in. Neighbors were also an impossibility, as the bothy was situated in a little copse of trees accessible only by crossing a footbridge that skirted a rough cliff edge. Nothing too high off the ground, but narrow enough that your car was parked half a mile away on the other side of the bridge. It was a tiny paradise, just you and the trees and the birds. The rain had occasionally relented to allow you a few rambles nearby, but you hadn’t undertaken anything as ambitious as to be called a ‘hike’.

Benedict was pulling his boots on and waving you toward the door. “Come on! Fresh air will do us good. Let’s go.”

You were remiss to leave your cozy nest but you knew he was right, and his crooked smile was irresistible. With a sigh you rose to your feet, donned your own coat and followed him.

He took your hand as you traipsed through the wet grass down the trail toward the bridge. The air had an earthy musk scent from the previous night’s deluge. It did feel good to stretch your legs. You didn’t even bother asking where you were headed, you would let Benedict lead you. But he suddenly stopped short. 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

The path before you no longer led to the footbridge. Instead it ended abruptly at a slanting jumble of boulders. A rockslide off the side of the nearby cliff had completely blocked your exit.

You both stood dumbstruck, puzzling out your next steps.

“I don’t know how we didn’t hear this,” you murmured, imagining the rumbling crash of so many large stones piling upon themselves. 

Benedict chuckled next to you. “Well, one of us was being exceptionally noisy last night.”

You smacked him but it only made him laugh harder. Your frustration was building, so unused to being confronted with an obstacle you couldn’t quickly surmount. Or perhaps you could.

“I’m going to climb over.” You said definitively. “It looks solid enough. I’ll get to the other side, go back to the car and get help so this can get cleared away.”

“Well, I’m going with you.” Ben’s brow furrowed, something anxious in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Maybe. But one at a time. Let me test it out and find the footholds. I’m lighter than you.”

“Be careful,” he urged, but you were already clambering onto the nearest rock, pulling yourself over the larger pieces and tentatively resting your weight with each careful step. The top of the mound rose about eight feet off the ground and you scrabbled your way to it easily enough. Standing on top, you could see on the other side that the footbridge was still intact. It gave you a surge of confidence and you stepped forward, eager to scurry down the other side. Then everything sank, your stomach and your optimism as your right foot found a weak spot and shuddered downward in a small cascade of stones, sinking in up to your thigh until you felt it pinned at the ankle, the rocks trapping you in place.

“Shit!” You hissed, tugging uselessly to free yourself. It didn’t hurt, but it had immobilized you.

“What’s wrong?” Ben called from below, panicked.

You gritted your teeth. God, this was embarrassing. Off you had gone with bravado and now the universe was going to show you better. It was going to double down in fact, because you felt the first drops of rain spattering you from the dull grey sky. You clawed at the stones around your leg, able to toss some aside but others were so large you’d never be able to lift them. An animal part of your brain was starting to flood with fear, but you fought to keep your voice steady.

“I’m bloody stuck.” You lamented. “My leg is caught.” It wasn’t a request for assistance, but you should have known how he would react. 

“Hang on, I’m coming!” From your vantage point you could see Ben dash forward and begin to climb the rocks, not caring to test the stability of his steps, just rushing toward you. You opened your mouth to tell him to slow down, but your voice caught in your throat as everything suddenly rumbled, an ominous herald of what was coming. You both froze, staring wide eyed and feet apart from one another. Then everything shifted and fell away. 

Your entire sense of gravity tilted as the rocks beneath and around you slid, all jumbling together as they surged further away from the cliffside. You felt your leg snap within the grinding stone and cried out, landing on your side and feeling a jagged edge glance across your forehead. Your eyes fell on Benedict clamoring to reach you as he lost his own footing on the tumbling wave. He was unsuspecting, his eyes locked only on you when a massive boulder came rolling as easily as a toy ball and slammed into his side, knocking him out of view and into the tumult of roiling earth beneath you. You screamed his name but it was lost to the thunderous clatter. 

Amidst the chaos, one thought began to form clearly in your mind. This was how you would die. Crushed in a rockslide thanks entirely to your own stupidity. And worst of all, you had dragged Ben with you. The nightmare deepened as the sky ripped with a clap of thunder and rain began to pummel you in earnest as everything continued to slide and roll around you. Numb with anguish, all you could do was bury your face in your hands and wait for fate to claim you.

But it didn’t. In what felt like only a moment, everything stilled. The rocks had stopped moving, their sound had died away, and you were lying on top of the mound sensing nothing but the cold patter of heavy rain. You were still alive, a fact that was confirmed by the burning pain you felt pulsing in your leg. Looking down you saw that it was freed, released from the churning rocks, but it was bloodied and wouldn’t respond to your attempts to move it. Though it was a novel experience for you, there was no doubt in your mind that it was broken.

That was the least of your worries. As you came back to your senses they all tuned to one goal. You had to find Benedict. You called out for him, voice croaking, but were met with silence. You pushed yourself up to look around. The slide hadn’t buried the trail any further, only shifted on top of itself. You could see the path back to the bothy on one side and the footbridge on the other. But no Benedict. You screamed his name again, louder. Nothing. A sickening dread started to rise from your stomach as you began to pull yourself over the rock. You couldn’t stand properly and even if you could, you didn’t want to risk disturbing anything. It was better to spread your weight across the surface and so you began to slither on your belly, fingers bloodying themselves on rough edges as you dragged along in the direction you had last seen him. Everything was turning slick and muddy with the rain. You moved back down toward the trail, eyes sweeping, and just near the bottom is where you saw a spot of orange amidst the rubble. His shirt.

“Ben!” You shrieked, half-rising on your good leg to hobble over to him. You reached the bottom of the rock pile and saw him lying at the edge of it. You chanted his name desperately as you landed at his side. He was on his back mostly unhidden, a few small stones piled around his limbs which you pushed away, but one large one wedged over the right side of his chest. He was frighteningly pale and seemingly unconscious, lying still as he was battered by rain.

“Ben,” you called to him, taking his face in your hands. “Ben, wake up!” When he didn’t respond, your heart started hammering. No, no, no. You bent an ear to his mouth, silently praying to every deity you had ever heard of. To your great relief, he was breathing. But he was struggling. Your eyes landed on the boulder, covered in lichen and mocking you. You suddenly hated it more than you had hated anything in your life. With a surge of strength you didn’t know you possessed you drove yourself against it, leveraging with your good knee. It felt like fighting a brick wall and yet somehow after a moment, it loosened and you shoved until it tumbled backward and off of Benedict. 

Immediately he took a loud, wheezing inhale followed by a groaning “Fuuuuucccckkkkk.”

You would have laughed with relief if you were not so strung out on adrenaline and hell bent on getting as far away from this death trap as possible. 

“Ben,” You shook him lightly. “Benedict, open your eyes.” 

He did so, blinking against the rain, taking a moment to focus. Those bright, gentle eyes gazed back at you and made you feel rooted to the earth again. 

“We need to get back to the bothy. Can you stand?”

He stared at you, seeming dazed, then brought a hand to your forehead, speaking softly. “You’re bleeding.”

As his fingers came away red, you were surprised that you didn’t feel any pain other than the dull throb of your leg. None of this was important right now. You had to get to shelter and then you could assess all of your wounds.

“I’m alright.” You stated firmly. “We need to go, come on now.”

He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, the sleeve of his coat ripped and dirtied. You braced against each other as best you could and tried to stand but both fell back with shouts of pain, you unable to tolerate any weight on your shattered leg, and him clutching at his right side. You were in bad shape, but had no other options than to push through. No one was coming to help you and neither of you would leave the other.

You locked into each other’s eyes, breathing hard, and a silent understanding passed between you. Now was not a time for weakness. You would need to be strong for each other. You banded your arms around each other once again and, wincing and gasping, slowly staggered to your feet. Ben leaned heavily across your shoulders while you hopped on your left foot and dragged the other behind you.

Somehow through the pouring rain, with the screaming throb in your leg and Benedict swaying weightily beside you, you inched back along the trail to the bothy, soaked to the bone once you finally shambled inside. You maneuvered to gingerly lay Benedict onto the sofa but he still cried out at the movement. Then he laid still, eyes screwed shut against the pain as he exhaled raggedly through his nose. Spurred to action, you hopped loudly around the small space gathering towels, blankets, water, and the tiny first aid kit stashed in a cupboard. What use it would be, you didn’t know, but it was all you had. You checked your phone, already knowing there was no signal to dial out but instinctively needing to confirm it. Your mind spun. Plans. Actions. Steps. You were going to fix this. You were going to get out of this situation. You just had to keep your head, which was significantly harder to do when the man you loved was lying nearby as pale as a ghost and groaning. But you could get yourselves warm and dry. That was a first step.

After stoking a fire in the woodstove you lowered to sit next to the sofa, clumsily tumbling onto the floor as you winced at the shooting ache in your leg. Benedict’s eyes flew open and he looked at you with concern. “Your leg’s broken?” He intuited.

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, breathing through the pain. “But I’m fine. We need to check you out.”

You mopped his hair and face with a towel, the friction and heat from the nearby stove bringing some color back to his skin. You searched his eyes.

“What hurts? How do you feel?”

He grimaced. “Dizzy, but not too bad. I don’t know if I’m concussed or if I just got hit by a great bloody bunch of rocks.” He ended with his telltale smirk.

You were feeling anything but humorous at that moment. His joke made your insides seize, worried something may be seriously wrong.

“Have you been concussed before? Do you know what it feels like?”

He grinned further. “I have. You don’t grow up with seven siblings and not end up concussed. This doesn’t feel the same, but I can’t be sure.” Your mind started to quest through any errant information you had about concussions. He could read the panic in your expression and brought a hand to wrap around yours. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. If I start to go loopy that’s not a good sign, but I really think I’m okay.”

All you could do was nod tightly, imagining a dozen horrific scenarios and realizing there was little to nothing you could do about them. You simply had to stay focused on the moment and the fact that he was clear headed now. 

“What else?”

He waved a hand vaguely over his right side. “Something bad, here.”

As carefully as you could, you worked in tandem to peel off his sopping coat while bit back yelps of agony. You frowned at the sight of his right arm, scraped and lacerated shoulder to wrist, but it didn’t appear to be broken. Then you lifted the hem of his t-shirt and he arched as best he could so that you could pull it off, turning his face away as he seethed into the cushions. You sucked in a breath, horrified by what you had uncovered. A bruise, black and purple and green, mottling the entire side of his body and rippling with each breath. Cursing to yourself, you rested fingertips lightly over it and even that caused him to flinch. 

“I think…” you wavered. “I think your ribs are broken.”

He stared at the ceiling, his voice tight but sarcastic. “Yep, that feels about right.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Well enough,” he sighed. 

The severity of the situation was sinking in. Hysteria was starting to bubble in your chest but you locked your jaw, determined to keep it together. “What do I… What should I do, Ben? How do I fix this?”

He turned to look at you, his expression going soft. “You can’t fix it.”

That threatened to push you over the edge. Your constitution slipped, your chin started to tremble, tears mounting in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He cupped your face with a large hand, pads of his fingers pressing into your hair, urging you to focus. “We’re going to be alright. This is what’s going to happen. Tomorrow is our last rental day and the owners visit the property between guests. So they’ll come, see the path is blocked and know that we’re stuck here. They’ll get help. We just have to wait until tomorrow. We have everything we need here. We just have to be still and wait.”

You nodded, swallowing hard against the tears, ashamed that you couldn’t be stronger but breathlessly grateful that he would comfort you even when he was grievously injured. You kissed the palm of his hand and steadied yourself against its warmth. So very little was in your control, but you were determined to right the things that were. Moving carefully and trying to ignore the protesting pangs from your leg, you dried him off and piled him with blankets. The stove was burning high and the bothy still had the cozy air you had enjoyed the past few days. You stripped off your own soaking tops down to your bra and wrapped yourself in a blanket. Then you wet a rag and started to clean the cuts on his arm, dressing them with the ointment and bandages from the first aid kit.

Benedict watched you silently, something twinkling and bemused in his eyes. You worried that if you stared at him too long you were going to cry, so you focused on your task. Once you were finished he held out his hand.

“Give me the rag.” You handed it to him. “Come here.”

You shifted up to face him, concerned. “What do you need?”

Wordlessly, he pulled your chin closer with one hand and began to lightly dab at your forehead with the other. You closed your eyes, feeling the tears threaten again. If there was one thing Benedict Bridgerton would never cease to be come hell or high water, it was a caretaker of others. You weren’t quite sure what you had done to deserve such a man, but you knew it was imperative that you never let him go. As he wiped the blood away, your cut started to sting. You hadn’t found a mirror to examine it and you frankly didn’t want to. He was your only concern right now.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly. You were too overcome to do anything other than nod. Then he pulled your chin down even further, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to your wound. 

That’s what broke you. You finally let the tears spill down your cheeks, burrowing your face into the side of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” you whispered.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked, bewildered.

“I should never have tried to climb those damned rocks.”

He huffed. “You were trying to help us. I’m the one who shouldn’t have jumped up after you.”

You pulled back, sniffling. “You were trying to help me.”

“And look where all of that help landed us,” he smirked, causing you both to chuckle. But his laugh almost immediately turned into agonized gasps. 

“Alright, alright,” You put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “No laughing.”

“You need to splint your leg,” he rasped.

“How precisely should I do that?”

His eyes darted around the room. “The kindling for the stove. Take two long pieces and tie them off with towels.”

You began to drag yourself across the floor toward the woodpile, a realization forming that perhaps two people with zero medical training between them should not be as drawn to outdoor isolation as you were. You gathered two sturdy sticks and a handful of dish towels and then scraped your way back to his side.

“Make sure your leg is straight and tie it tight,” Benedict instructed. You nodded but were filled with apprehension. Ever since you had collapsed on the floor, your useless leg had been twisted at an appalling angle. You knew setting it was going to hurt. Taking a deep breath, you reached forward and tugged it straight. A white hot jab of pain jolted through your whole body, causing you to scream. Distantly, you could hear Benedict speaking to you, his hand rubbing circles across your back. His touch was what you focused on, the only thing helping you to fight the nausea as you lined up the wood and tied it tightly on either side of your broken limb, whimpering with each knot pulled. You fell back against the side of the sofa, panting as you found equilibrium and the searing pain faded back to an insistent throb. Benedict wrapped an arm across your chest, the closest thing to an embrace he could offer. You lay in silence together, exhausted, settling in for what was sure to be the longest night of your life.

Warmed by the fire and lulled by the rain driving against the windows, the atmosphere inside the bothy would have been dreadfully romantic if you weren’t both immobilized by broken bones and stranded, awaiting rescue. It would have been all too easy to fall asleep, but you were determined to stay awake until help arrived. You scooched yourself around the floor with all the grace of a geriatric slug, feeding the stove and brewing tea which you helped Benedict to drink as he lay flat. Out of habit you kept checking your phone, wondering if by some miracle a cell signal would appear.

“Sorry there’s no service here,” Benedict frowned. “Part of the whole appeal. Going off the grid.”

“I know,” you ran a reassuring hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault, I just can’t help checking. We need something to occupy ourselves.” Your eyes fell to the stacks of books beneath the coffee table, a motley assortment from the owners and you suspected, prior guests. You began to assess the authors, gauging his reactions.

“Dostoevsky?”

He grinned. “Well, I would enjoy that but I know it would put you to sleep.”

He was right. You set it back. “Ooo! Byron!” You lilted, waving the book at him tauntingly.

He groaned. “God, please. I’m in enough pain already.”

You laughed and tossed it aside. Next was a sleek, mysterious cover with a blurb promising ‘luxurious, unbridled passion’. You smirked. That seemed exciting enough to keep you both awake. 

“We’re reading filth,” you announced, settling in next to him again. You had expected something humorous, the kind of tawdry romance novel that every aunt seemed to be fond of. But while the story started out playful enough, the simmering sexual energy woven by the author’s talented prose was so evocative, you both started to squirm. The fearless, beautiful depictions of the lovers’ encounters were so salacious that you were too stunned to keep reading them aloud, your mouth falling open as you blushed instead. Dimestore trash this was not.

Benedict shifted behind you but you couldn’t look at him. “Maybe save that one for later,” he croaked. “Jesus, who wrote that?”

“Faye someone.” You mumbled, setting it aside with a mental note to steal it or buy your own copy.

“Please make me think of something else now,” Benedict pleaded, his voice tight.

“P.G. Wodehouse it is.” You smiled, grateful to have found something light and familiar.

“Brilliant.”

By the time you finished the short volume it was dark outside but the rain hadn’t let up. You could have switched on the lights but that seemed too harsh for the states you were in. The fire was a more relaxing illumination.

Your stomach rumbled, waking up after an extended period of anxiety. “We should eat something.” You had food enough to cook meals for one more day, but could scrounge for now. You trailed a hand lazily over Benedict’s cheek. “What do you want?”  He raised a brow. “Scotch. Neat.”

“You’re not drinking in your condition.” You said firmly, eliciting an exaggerated pout from him. “And neither am I. Do you have an appetite for anything solid?”

“Not really.”

“Just bread?”

You knew that would bring a light to his eyes. “With butter?”

You grinned. “Of course.” It was never a question with him. That was the one thing he would always happily eat. Setting off on another crawling journey across the floor to the kitchenette, you cobbled together your dinner. Bread, butter, a bit of cheese, a jar of olives. It would do. It was damn near continental. 

After your haphazard meal you found Benedict’s eyes drifting closed, everything about him looking utterly spent.

You held his hand in your own and kissed his bloodied knuckles. “Ben, you’re drifting off. Should you…can you sleep with a concussion?”

His eyes fluttered open, bleary. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Just wake me up every couple of hours to make sure I know my own name. Ask me some questions.”

“Alright.” You nodded, trying to ignore the spike of fear inside. What if he was hiding how he truly felt for your sake? What if he did have a concussion and got worse while he slept? What if you couldn’t wake him up again? Part of you wanted to plead with him to stay awake through the night, but it was overruled by the part that told you to trust him. Choosing hope, you squeezed his hand and laid it across his chest.

“What about you?” He was fading fast, eyes closed.

“I’m not tired,” you lied. “Get some rest.”

Then your vigil began. You set your phone alarm to go off every three hours and brewed another pot of tea. You would stay awake. If anything was compelling enough to combat your wearied body’s exhaustion, it was the need to make sure Benedict kept breathing and that he could come back to you when you woke him. You stayed at his side, studying the angles of his handsome face in the glow of the fire, grateful that he seemed to be peaceful. And you waited.

__

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In Scotland.”

“Why are we here?”

“We’re on holiday.”

“Who is your eldest brother?”

“Anthony.”

“Alright, go back to sleep.”

—

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In the mountains.”

“Why are we here?”

“I wanted to paint.”

“Where did you take me on our second date?”

“I said, ‘What do you say we go to Marseille?’”

“Yes, it was awful of you. I finally committed to you and then you said cheesy mad shit like that.”

“But you came with me.”

“I did.”

“And you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did. Go back to sleep.”

—

The third time you woke him, the light was turning grey outside and the rain had weakened to fits of spray. It was the day of your rescue. You just had to wait a few more hours. You decided you should probably wake Benedict for good.

“Ben?” You ran your hands through his hair, coaxing him back.

“Mmm?” 

He had awoken so easily each time, it was reassuring.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with you,” he slurred.

Your heart faltered, touched by his response but also concerned at its vagueness. 

“And who am I?”

Even though his eyes remained closed, his lips tilted into a small smile. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Exhaustion, fear, relief and love heaping upon one another.

Your voice trembled. “Where are we both right now?”

“We’re stuck in the bloody bothy.” He spat.

You chuckled, running your thumb over his forehead. He seemed to be lucid. “Why are we here?”

“I wanted to ask you,” he sighed, sounding almost as if slipping back into sleep.

You were confounded. “Ask me what?”

At last his eyes blinked open, settling on you with the steady, blue-grey stare that you could drown in. 

“Get my coat.” 

Still confused, you did as he asked, pulling his coat from the side of the sofa and handing it to him. It was only when he began rummaging through the pockets that realization struck and you froze. Time seemed to slow as he finally pulled out a small box and tossed the coat aside. He pried the lid open and brought it to rest on his bruised chest so that you were staring face first at a silver ring twined with a sapphire and pearls.

“Ask you to be my wife.” He declared, that timeless cheeky grin lighting his face. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if you were delirious with exhaustion or dreaming. He continued. “The hike was to an overlook. The landscape I painted that you love so much? I wanted to ask you there. I’m sorry we didn’t make it.”

Everything was falling into place. His insistence on this holiday. The uncharacteristic request for a hike. He had meant it to be one of the most memorable days of your life. It had certainly turned out that way, but not in the expected fashion.

Entirely ignoring the beautiful ring, you pulled him into a kiss.

“Oh, Ben.” You weren’t sure if you were laughing or crying or about to faint. You just needed to have him close.

He nuzzled his nose against yours, trying to convey as much affection as he could while not being able to move.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to be, but I need to ask you before anything else goes wrong.”

You stared back at him in alarm. “Nothing else is going to go wrong. Don’t you dare say that.”

He only smiled, devastating with his boyish grin and the cheerful crinkles around his bright eyes. 

“So? Will you?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I will.” Your words were muffled into his lips as you kissed him again, hands wound tight into his hair, never wanting to let go. You didn’t feel tired anymore. You didn’t feel your pain. All you felt was him. Even now he smelled so wonderful, tasted so wonderful. He was light and certainty. He felt like home. 

When you managed to pry yourself off of him, his eyes were glittering. He plucked the ring from its box and slid it onto your shaking hand.

“In sickness and in health.” He beamed. “I think we’ve already covered that bit.”

“Yes, we have.” You fell upon him again, breathless, everything fading behind the reality that he would be yours forever. It was a twist of fortune you’d never feel worthy of.

A few hours later you were snogging rather ferociously when someone began pounding on the door. It was emergency services. Just as Benedict had foretold, the bothy owners had seen the rockslide and sent help. He was infuriatingly correct in that way most of the time. A team of people dressed in yellow bandaged you both further and expressed surprise as how well you had handled yourselves under the circumstances. The rubble would take too long to be cleared but with specialty equipment they carried you expertly over to safety and into awaiting ambulances.

Your tallied damage was three leg fractures, three forehead stitches, three broken ribs and no concussion. ‘Symmetrically maimed’ as Benedict proudly announced to your family members who sped up to Scotland to collect you. In the subsequent weeks everyone was so busy fluttering around your injuries that no one noticed your ring finger. You and Benedict made a game of it, placing bets on who would be the first. You won the bet when three weeks in, Violet suddenly clamped eyes on your left hand and started yelping. Then added to the endless questions about your harrowing tale of survival, you were peppered with questions about wedding plans. Muscling through each day as a couple of lovesick invalids, you hadn’t found time to make any, but you had agreed on one thing. No matter where you went on honeymoon, hiking would not be on the itinerary.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @faye-tale

[pancho-pinto]

At least they didn't go in the middle of the night

my gift for @oshawottarchive for the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange [insert yapping]

Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Words: 5,609 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bdoubs/EthosLab, Bdouble/EthoSlab/impulseSV Additional Tags: Hiking, Body Horror, but not really, horror slightly to the left Summary: Etho extends an invitation to meet up, and finally, Impulse and Etho will meet-up after multiple failed attempts. Bdubs is excited, of course. And he would be more excited, had Etho's invitation not been deep in the forest.

Impulse drummed on the steering wheel with his thumbs as they drove down the dirt road. It had been almost fifteen minutes since they left the man-made road, turning into an opening to a hike spot—they even saw some people hiking down, waving and smiling at them as they drove up. All in all, not yet suspicious since there were people around, though that would soon stop too.

The further in they went, the thicker the line of lines got. Branches and leaves condensed, blocking off the sunlight and letting the whole place fall into shade. Not dark enough to warrant turning on the high beams, but enough that Impulse halved their speed just in case.

Additionally, the path looked less traveled, which finally prompted Impulse to speak up.

"Bdubs? Are you sure we are going in the right direction?" He turned to him a little, sparing a glance before focusing back on the road, hands firm on the wheel and not trusting anything. Aside from the roaring of the engine and his own heartbeat, everything else was quiet. Once they drove through the entrance, Bdubs only told him to follow the path, and that was the last they talked.

For whatever reason—maybe because there was no good station or because Impulse had forgotten to bring his tapes—the whole ride went without turning the radio on.

"Of course! Etho clearly wrote it here, see?" Bdubs waved a piece of paper between them, barely entering Impulse's field of vision. He sighed as Bdubs brought the paper close to his chest, head tilted down as he probably re-read what was written. "And we would've gotten there faster, y'know, if you hadn't slowed down!"

"It's dangerous!" Impulse defended, flashing a frown before sighing.

Despite both of them living in this town all their lives, Impulse had never been in this part of the forest. Bdubs had, apparently. Along with that Etho guy who Impulse had never seen, only heard about from Bdubs.

A mix of bad timing and other commitments, Impulse had never been able to come along to these 'hang outs' despite Bdubs' ample invitations—and Etho's, as Bdubs claimed. Etho, also, did not go to the same school as them—not elementary, middle or even high school; instead, he was homeschooled because his parents were hippies—again, all according to Bdubs.

In hindsight, the fact that they only met this deep in the forest was a red flag.

Additionally, being this far from civilization meant this Etho guy also had a car or some sort of vehicle, which was probably how he even got there.

Impulse wondered if Etho ever drove Bdubs this far, so he asked.

"Can… Can I ask you something, B?"

"Hm?"

"Do you usually meet here? You and Etho, I mean." Again, Impulse glanced in his direction, only briefly.

In the corner of his eyes though, he saw Bdubs shake his head, deflating into the seat with a long sigh. "No, of course not!" He sounded offended, then sighed again—a hint of exasperation, maybe? Impulse could not be sure. "We usually hang out near the entrance where, y'know, the other people go and hangout and whatnot. He always asks me if I want to hike further up, and I always say no. Can you imagine? Hiking all the way here by foot? He's crazy."

Impulse chuckled, and after sparing a glance at his GPS, he had nothing to do but agree. The red dot was practically in an ocean of nothingness, trekking along to who knew where. At least, as he looked ahead then back through the rear-view mirror, it was a pretty straightforward path.

"So…" Impulse continued, quite liking the sound of their voices over the silence. Bdubs seemed to feel the same as he squirmed in his seat, straightening with a hand on his seat-belt, puffing up his chest for conversation. "You and Etho, huh? It, uh, makes sense, I guess? Since you spend so much time together and all."

Bdubs made a sound, something mixed between choking and a stutter—he coughed twice to clear his throat, turning to face out his window, "It's… complicated. He cares, I know he cares. I can tell he does, and– And I care about him too. It's just, y'know, complicated. We haven't really talked about it. No labels, no nothin'…"

Despite wanting to know, and having already asked, Impulse felt like he did not like the answer. He squeezed the wheel then exhaled, easing his grip too. He was worried, that was all—and judging by Bdubs' words, he had all right to be.

"He doesn't like people," Bdubs said unprompted, which was an odd thing to bring up all of the sudden, and it sounded almost like an explanation—for Impulse or himself, it was hard to say. Impulse did not interrupt, subtly easing on the gas pedal, slowing the car just to drag the conversation a little longer. "It's… Okay, no, it's not like he doesn't like people. We spend a lot of time in the forest, like, deep but still near the entrance. He's jumpy and gets startled easily. So… so even if we hang out a lot, I… uh, um, I don't really see him all that often. When the trail is empty, mostly. Few people and even then, we… It's fine…"

Impulse opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to think about this new information. When Bdubs told him about Etho—and that was quite often—it was always in a positive manner. All these survival skills Etho showed him like how to build a fire and how to makeshift some tools, telling him tales and myths about the stars and creatures that supposedly lived in the forest—Bdubs claimed to not believe in any of that, always puffing up his chest and cheeks when he re-told Impulse, full offense at Etho trying to 'scare' him with campfire stories.

With a flicker of the lever, the high beams were on.

"He thinks he's so spooky. And– Agh. It's annoying, he's so annoying about it too. So smug. He thinks he can scare me and– and, and he doesn't even know! We're not kids anymore, y'know? All that stuff about ghosts and critters and ground-crawlers might've scared me when we were younger, but now it's just stupid." Bdubs spoke fast, a scoff with every pause and possibly a couple eyerolls. In his tirade of hand gestures and incomprehensible waves, Bdubs did not notice the smile on Impulse's lips and the quiet chuckles. "Anyways! Whatever. It's whatever. You don't believe in any of that, do you, Impy? Because you're all about that science and concrete evidence and stuff."

All Impulse could really give was an uncommitted shoulder shrug.

With yet another sigh from Bdubs, they spent the next five minutes in silence. However, on the dot, they approached a clearing. Compact dirt with an opening for the sky, still bright and clear as it had been earlier, so at least they had not really wasted much time.

"Is this the place?"

Bdubs picked up the paper and read it once more, nodding, "Yup. Clearing at the end of the path. Pull over wherever."

Despite there being no lines or clear boundaries, Impulse parked near the road, maneuvering the car to it was facing back where they had come in from—just in case, he thought as they clicked the button to release their belts. They slid out the car and stretched their legs and arms and backs.

Bdubs took a couple steps away from the car into the middle of the clearing, looking between the paper and the forest around them—prompting Impulse to do the same. It never hurt to be aware of their surroundings, especially since they had no real idea of where they were. For all they knew, this could be a trap and they were going to get murdered and no one would know—that was an exaggeration, their parents knew exactly where they were going and when to expect them back; at Impulse's insistence to let someone know.

The forest looked relatively normal if not a little dense, dark trunks with darker leaves, a couple of openings to some paths leading elsewhere. Behind the car, there was a log indicating the parking spot, so that meant people visited. Though, judging by the looser dirt, Impulse failed to decide what to believe.

Other than a cool breeze and some distant bird calls, it was just another day.

"Ready to go?"

Impulse looked down from the blue sky to Bdubs, giving him a puzzled look. "I thought Etho was gonna meet us here?"

Bdubs shook his head. "Gotta hike a little. I promise it won't be far."

He sighed, giving in.

As Impulse closed his driver side door, Bdubs opened the trunk to grab their bags. He handed one to Impulse and closed it, and Impulse locked the car before sliding into the straps. Bdubs threw the shoulder strap over his head, checking his phone quickly before shoving it back into his pocket.

Then they were off East side, Bdubs leading the way though they walked side by side.

"Say, Bdubs, does Etho even have a phone?"

Now that there was no driving, Impulse indulged in looking at Bdubs' face to read his expressions—catching every twitch and shift and conflicted emotion he otherwise would not hear about. Bdubs was expressive, plenty expressive.

And this was one such case.

"No," he replied firmly, then his expression wavered. He pressed his lips tight then opened them about to say something only to seal them abruptly, brow knitting before closing his eyes, then opening them again to glare at the ground then scowling ahead. "I mean, he does—or says he does, anyways. I have his number but we… we never text. We call, sometimes—sparingly, though."

Impulse chuckled, "He's really a peculiar guy, huh?"

The words managed to break Bdubs out of his cycle, lips curving into a smile, whole face and demeanor bright like the sun. "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

Much like the road they drove up, their hiking path was naturally worn into—which meant it had been used plenty at some point, though it must have slowed or stopped since it did not look used as of late.

A flat dirt path littered with pebbles, some broken bits of roots and grass laying about. It was wide, Impulse noticed—enough for at least six people to walk side by side—with scattered trees lining up the walkable area. Despite there being some openings, it lead to the grass beyond, weaving through trees into the darkness.

They could only hope they would not need to use their flashlights—Impulse prepared for it, though, having charged his dad's torches. He liked to be prepared. As soon as Bdubs had mentioned going into the forest, Impulse had allocated a couple hours to prepare for their travel.

Better to be over-prepared and paranoid, he thought idly as he looked back and forth, noting how little things changed the further in they went.

"Do you know exactly where we are going?" Impulse asked finally, squinting at the edges of the tree canopies, wondering if they were closing in or if he was imagining it. The path too, seemed to narrow down a little. Still enough for six people, though now it was a tighter squeeze. He voiced none of this, however.

"Are you implying we're lost?" Bdubs asked with a huff, offended.

"Hah, no, no. Just… You said you've never really been around here, so I was just curious, that's all."

Bdubs exhaled loudly, almost like he was making a point, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. He had his eyes closed for a brief moment, opening them with fiery determination. Inspiring, maybe—right then, though, it was just kinda adorable to watch.

"Don't you worry, Impulse! Ol' Bdubs here will protect you and never lead you astray! Mark my words. As long as you stick with me, you will be safe from harm and will never ever lose your way!"

Impulse laughed, rather fondly as the air lighten a little. Leave it to Bdubs for motivational speeches. Loud with an unbreakable spirit, what was there to not trust?

In any case, if there was someone to not trust, it would definitively be Etho.

After walking through an opening with two trees, almost symmetrical, that looked like a gate, they were in another opening. The ground was tall grass that reached their above their ankles, refusing to be smoothed down over and over by a breeze. Trees circled the area, almost hunched over to encase the area.

Bdubs sped up to the center, looking left and right, at the paper then the trees—and Impulse slowed down, watching him get further with the occasional glance around.

He looked at him, at his companion—the boy he knew since forever, practically growing up together in this little town of theirs. He admired the green, cloak-like hoodie with the yellow drawstring that opened up when he spun to reveal a white tee that clung to his chest, the ripped jeans and the spots of skin it reveals, and the same white sneakers that were hidden by the tall grass. In a funny turn of events, the seat-belt across his chest was replaced by the strap of his bag, a patch of TNT near the top with a golden clock looped at the bottom.

Unlike Bdubs' long sleeves, Impulse had a short-sleeve black shirt and a vest. The breeze made the airs in his arms stand with every touch, and he occasionally rubbed his arms to ease the chills.

It was hard to pinpoint when it had gotten so quiet. While distracted with their voices in conversation, neither noticed the slow disappearance of bird calls and other nature sounds. Even the distant howling of the wind was muffled beyond the opening.

Odd and odder, but they stayed.

"Maybe he got bit by a snake," Bdubs muttered to himself but Impulse heard him. Impulse also saw the eyeroll too, chuckling quietly at it. "And he probably deserved it! How dare he make us walk all the way over here and not even show up! Imp, I give you my full permission to deck him when he shows up!"

He laughed again, not bothering to hide it this time.

Bdubs looked back at him, an examining gaze that broke into a smile.

Impulse straightened, saluting him, "Yes, sir!"

Bdubs broke into a fit of laughter, which apparently was loud enough because someone joined them in the clearing shortly after.

Behind Bdubs' shoulder, Impulse had a clear sight of him. White hair and pale skin, bottom half of his face hidden behind a black mask. He was dressed casually in a black turtleneck with a green jacket on top, black cargo pants and heavy-duty boots and black gloves too—and Etho would have played the part of someone going on a hike if not for the lack of a bag or other visible resources this deep in the forest.

Impulse noticed, too, something that he probably should not have.

"That's not very nice."

Bdubs snapped towards Etho's direction, staring for a couple seconds in stillness. Etho looked back, tilting his head, almost amused by the lack of vocal reaction. Nonchalantly, Etho slung his hands into the pockets of his puffy jacket then promptly walked over, step by step getting closer to Bdubs who was still looking without saying anything.

In Bdubs' lack of action, Impulse took lead, his voice halting Etho from approaching further, "I'm Impulse. And I'm guessing you're Etho?"

Etho gave a partial nod, his eyes drifting from Bdubs to him—there was something in those eyes, Impulse noticed; they looked icy and distant, too sharp and too piercing. He held his gaze, though, knowing better than to look away. There was an air about him, this Etho guy that he could not quite point his finger towards.

"Bdubs told me about you, right, B?" Etho said, humorously, turning his head slightly to look at Bdubs. That seemed to shake him out of his thoughts, because Bdubs took a step back and looked between them, shaking his head before nodding. "Hey, nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise."

Bdubs frowned, "Why are you being so formal? Whatever. Etho, where the hell did you want to go?! First, you tell us to meet you in the middle of who knows where. Then you go and be late. And now– Now we have to keep hiking! Lead the way already before I kick your ass myself!"

"Fine, fine." Etho raised then dropped his shoulders, gesturing behind his right shoulder. "Remember to stick close. Wouldn't want to lose each other!"

With one more huff from Bdubs, the trio began their walk. Despite Etho leading the way, they walked side by side with Bdubs in the middle, a fitting position being that he was the bridge between the two. Still, there was an odd feeling in Impulse's gut, one that told him to keep an eye on Etho and just be wary.

After a couple steps, they exited the clearing back into the forest floor. It was still walkable, surprisingly, with not many trees close together. Regardless, the canopies guarded them jealously, blocking off most of the sunlight but outrageously or dangerously. An ordinary forest, quiet with their boots on dirt, rolling pebbles and crunching on twigs and leaves. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

Except for the wind. Whistling around them—far beyond them. Ever present, distant and close, circling and suffocating.

Impulse tugged at the collar of his shirt, exhaling as he did. He could feel a light coolness on the skin of his face and neck, brushing against his hands and caressing his clothes and sneaking under them—beneath, a thin layer of sweat.

"Been a while, huh?" Bdubs asked.

"Since what?" Etho followed up.

Bdubs breathed out, almost a breathless and exasperated huff. "Hiking. And I wasn't talkin' to you!"

Impulse chuckled, "Yeah, I guess so. You know I'm not really the outdoors kind of person. Much less all this!"

"Oh? Where did you get all the gear, then?"

"Dad's old stuff."

Bdubs sighed loudly, throwing his hands in the air before folding them behind his head, tilting his head up slightly. "Why are we here anyways? We could've hung out where we always go. Save us the walk and everything."

Etho hummed, and Impulse saw him glance over at Bdubs. "Scared? We can hold hands if you are. I'll protect you."

"Knock it off, Etho! You can't scare me!"

Etho laughed, a little more loudly—and Impulse had to ask.

"I keep hearing about these scary stories," he started nonchalantly, casting a glance behind Bdubs in Etho's direction, "what's all that about?"

Bdubs grabbed a handful of the hair on his nape before letting go, huffing and puffing as he muttered under his breath—a mix of 'oh, here we go' and 'why are we even talking about this nonsense?'—which only drew Impulse's attention further. He took two steps ahead, effectively and almost symbolically separating himself from them and the conversation despite needing to see where Etho was leading.

Impulse only chuckled—unknowingly that Etho stared at Bdubs with the same fondness as his own eyes.

"Campfire stories," Etho said eventually, bringing them back to topic.

Impulse glanced at him, then he watched Bdubs' back, then finally settled with looking ahead. The scenery was mostly the same through and through, and for all he knew, they could be walking in circles to fulfill some ritual thing led by Etho—or Bdubs; everyone was fair game after all.

Still, the environment was hair-raisingly quiet with only their footsteps. Distant bird cries, but nothing that indicated another presence.

Or, well, one they could see anyways.

"That so? What kind of stories?"

It was easy to tell Etho liked this topic. After a question or two, Etho was going on a tangent about monsters and paranormal stuff. Creatures that always watch the forest, the souls of lost hikers, the beings brought up by wrongful deaths, a forest without exit, disembodied voices that lulled people further and further.

Impulse found himself captivated by Etho's tales—oddly fond of the jumping topics and lost trains of thoughts too—and he kept asking questions. Again, it was easy because Etho seemed to really enjoy the topic.

"Oh! Rumor has it, there is a ghost of a girl in the lake that runs North from the main entrance. No murder or anything, from what I've heard, though it was said that she was a sickly girl."

"Don't tell me," Impulse jumped in with a chuckle, albeit for a morbid reason, "they found her body in the lake?"

"Nah, died at home. They say her spirit lingers on the lake because she loved it that much. Funny, really, how that happens." Etho whistled, shrugging. "Not only ghosts, but other creatures too, how their very being is tied to a place and becomes unable to leave. Mostly due to strong emotions, though not always. And there are lucky ones who get to pass on once their business is sorted. I wonder what the parameters of 'sorted' is."

"Doubt the dream-eaters and fairies have an end."

"No, I guess not. Can't really eat everyone's dreams or trick everyone .They're limited to the forest, I suppose." Etho tilted his head, looking at his left then turning to his right. Their eyes met when Impulse felt his eyes on him, giving a quirked brow with a friendly smile. Etho watched him for a second longer, then away, "And with the influx of people coming in and out, I doubt there is a real meter to fulfill."

"Are you two done yapping about this nonsense?" Bdubs questioned ahead of them, irritation in his voice. It was rather evident, echoing in their path and bouncing on the trees, reaching back to Impulse and Etho rather loudly. Despite not being able to see him, it was easy to picture a knit brow and a scowl on his lips, nose scrunched up slightly with dark eyes.

"Sounds to me like someone wants a break," Etho hummed, poking the bear.

Bdubs snapped back to glare at him, which Etho only replied with a grin under the mask and an exaggerated wave. Impulse watched them with amusement, mostly because Bdubs was a rather patient guy and he talked so nicely about Etho in the past. Yet, watching them interact, anyone would think Bdubs hated Etho's guts.

Odd but entertaining—plenty to distract him mind momentarily from the forest.

"I think we should take a break," Impulse said.

"Aw, but we were doing such good time." Etho tried to sound sad, only managing to sound fake and absolutely failing to hide the laugh. "We would've made it before sunset at this rate!"

The break was silently agreed upon as Bdubs tore grass under his boot spinning, marching back to scream in Etho's face. Just the same old complaining and nagging, with Etho brushing it all off like nothing. Something about the situation made it seem like it was not the first time—which at this rate, Impulse had no doubt about; those two spent quite a lot of time by Bdubs' recounting and Etho's little anecdotes.

As Etho barely tried to appease Bdubs, giving vague answers to where they were going and how far it was, Impulse walked to the side of the path where some boulders were. He heard Etho talk about the spirit of Park Ranger Denis, a man who was drawn to squabbling groups due to his untimely death after a fight with his best friend during a hike. He imagined claws in the branches around them, swaying and inching closer to them, pointed claws closing in as Etho spoke about lost hikers and the importance of getting along.

Impulse chuckled, sighing in relief when he sat down with his bag beside him.

"We have to stay united!" Etho exclaimed in the middle of trying to hold back giggles, which Bdubs saw and raged through.

"Stop with all these stupid stories!" Bdubs punched him in the right arm, weakly but enough to send Etho's arm swinging back slightly.

A dark green sleeve darkened in the shadow of his body, thinning out as fingers elongated into pointy ends. It swung like a loose branch, neither of them paying attention as Bdubs stepped into Etho's space, nagging him about the time and their curfew—because they, he and Impulse, had school the next day unlike homeschooled Etho.

Etho brought his normal arm up, index and thumb lightly pinching his chin in thought, playing up the part of listening intently to Bdubs' words.

"Well, why didn't you say so? Didn't I tell you about the goblins and faes who kidnap children who stay up late? Or the other ones who snatch up kids—"

"Agh! You're awful!" Bdubs pushed him back, exasperated, with an eyeroll though his lips broke into a smile when Etho's grabbed his wrist on the last second.

Something dark bloomed where Bdubs' hands touched, scrunched up fabric and spots that blended from shirt to jacket and back. Some dry, or at least drier than the shadowy arm—solid too, much sturdier. Almost like the bark of trees or clothes caked in dry mud, chipping between the bodies as Etho reminded Bdubs that they had seen something watching them once and Bdubs dismissed it as some forest animal too curious for its own good.

It spread—a blooming bark covering his chest. Layers and layers, the solid trunk and two flap that made the jacket. An ashy brown dust that stained Bdubs' black jeans. Specks and flecks raining down against ripped jeans, melting into the fabric until saturated. The lights dimmed as the world centered around them, the spotlight on them only while the outside watched.

Outsiders. An audience. Impulse among them.

Etho tugged Bdubs' hand over his shoulder, those cold eyes sharpening with a hidden smile as Bdubs invaded his space further—walked right up in his area until their chest bumped. Bdubs did not fight, barely huffed with a stupid smile, already expecting an action like that or maybe able to see right through Etho. Regardless, they stood planted in place, not a word spoken between them as they said everything with looks and small gestures.

And Bdubs' smile.

That damn smile.

Like the very sun—a fire in the middle of winter, a firefly or maybe a star in the darkest of nights—so bright and vibrant and warm. It lit them up, kept the shadows at bay even if they inched closer and closer, circling them in gusts of winds and ghostly hands. Snakes on the ground, slithering through the grass around their boots, bodies blended into the movement of the grass.

"Do I have something on my face?" Bdubs questioned, a laugh in his words, playful as he had not been all morning. Warm and resonant, joyous as they both knew him to be. Spring after winter, they agreed.

Etho's laugh echoed, layers upon layer that became quieter and quieter in the distance, then they returned as giggles and cackles—small, various.

"No," Etho replied quieter than the laughs all around them, sharp eyes softening at the sun like melting ice, "there is nothing on your face."

Bdubs looked up at Etho, their faces so close it would be impossible to not see.

Etho let go of Bdubs' wrist slowly, letting him drape his arm over his shoulder, his own slowly lowering to be gently placed on Bdubs' side. Gloved fingers grazed above the pockets, crawling around until he could place his palm on his mid-back. Shadows like roots slithering on his back, sprouting from his palm flat on his back, from his fingers spreading out to hold him.

"There is something on your face," Bdubs laughed softly, smiling twice as much. In the darkness of shadows and icy eyes, Bdubs saw the face of someone important—tunnel visioned hard on familiarity, away from the unknown and tucked safely in what he knew, who he knew.

"Really?"

"Hm-huh. It's right there."

Cheekily, leisurely, comfortably—Etho grasped the back Bdubs' jacket in his hand, fabric that suddenly seemed to glow under his fingers. Gold in between blacks, lights in shadows—enlightened, delighted.

Etho raised his left hand to his face, index flat on his face as his middle finger unlooped one side, then his thumb the other, and he was merely holding his mask against his face. It lifted on the sides—more than fabric, a plate solid, his armor.

Slowly, with a bated breath, Bdubs awaited as Etho pinched the mask—his armor, his safety—and pulled it away. His face, the image he knew for months came apart before his eyes, like someone else—someone brand new.

If Bdubs could hear the birds singing giggles and cackles on the branches, translucent blue bodies and scowls on their faces, wings melted into their skin, all eagerly awaiting on branches and canopies—

If Bdubs could smell the rot in the air from hollow trunks, from the dead grass beyond the circle of light that he was, all consuming and heavy in his lungs—

If Bdubs could taste the iron, the bitterness with every breath—

Under the mask there was hollowness, a void that simply stared back at him. No sharp eyes as Impulse saw them, no warm eyes as Bdubs did. Nothing, an emptiness, a darkness found in the vastness of space beyond the stars. Maybe it would be better if there was something, maybe it would be best if Bdubs knew—but neither were options, so there was nothing to do.

"Do I have something on my face now?" Etho asked, and his voiced echoed like a giant wave that spread far. Still his voice, airier, hollower like the wind itself, whistling through husks of trees.

"I think so," Bdubs whispered instead, solid against the dispersion of Etho's voice.

Slowly, Bdubs inched his right hand to Etho's face, fingertips on his jaw just shy of the nothingness. And when he got on his tiptoes to get closer, a hum vibrated on the whole forest from Etho's own chest.

When Bdubs tried to kiss him, Etho laughed warmly, tilting his head back so Bdubs' lips landed on the underside of his jaw. His neck stretched back—too long, too far back. The silhouette of a hanged-man's neck though Etho was anything but. He told stories about that, morbid stories that had Bdubs screaming at him—necks and limbs and bodies that stretched inhumanly, so easily mistaken for branches and trunks in the distance, but there was a sway to them up close.

Tales, all of it.

Of shadowy claws as creatures stalking the forest floor, digging nails into husks to pull themselves forward. Of the wind that sounded like cries and like laughter, lulling hikers forward and away at will. Of wisps of fire and glimmers of blue, dancing all around them in childish play.

Tales, all of it—Bdubs said.

"You should rest up, Dubs," Etho hummed as he pressed his mask to his face, securing it. The edges melted into his skin, seamless, and there, once again, was the face most familiar to Bdubs. Another smile, the sun bright as ever. "We've got a long way to go still. And if you don't rest, you'll be whining about it later!"

The split was harsh—a hard but still playful shove from Bdubs. They stumbled away from each other, laughing as the world cleared around them. The forest opened up to the light as canopies retreated to make way, light sweeping the shadows behind the tree lines and everything went back to normal with lighter air. Splatters of black dissipated from Bdubs' clothes, ashy pecks evaporating from his pants. And Etho—his limbs shrunk as he lifted then folded them behind his head, nonchalant with a tilted head, staring at Bdubs huffing and puffing about his endurance.

Impulse pried his eyes for the first time in what felt like an eternity, vision assaulted by the bright sunlight. He cringed away from it, artificial on his skin, and the sweat felt stickier and forced. His eyes landed on his bag, catching a wisp of translucent blue vanishing before him—a small hand that dropped the strap of his bag.

When Bdubs walked over, he noticed how cold the world was because suddenly, at proximity, everything was warm and cozy and normal. When Bdubs was around, of course. What was life—the universe itself—without its sun.

It was easy, then, to accept wanting to be near him.

"Ahh, I still can't believe we are doing this." Bdubs whined to no one in particular, complaints delivered to the wind that finally cooled their skin.

Despite the dryness in his throat, Impulse spoke, " We can always turn back."

"Oh, no, no, you can't now!" Etho laughed, sitting on the grass to form a triangle between them. He let his head drop on his shoulder, opening one eye to Bdubs. "Wouldn't want to risk something grabbing one of us now!"

"Shut up!"

As Bdubs broke into another spiel about not being gullible, Impulse sipped from his bottle, his eyes casually drifting to Etho. Expectantly, Etho turned to face him slightly with a playful glow in his eyes.

Etho's left eye glowed red then shifted to an amber—the exact shade of Impulse's eyes.

[liaromancewriter]

What Could Have Been (7/?)

Series Premise: When Ethan breaks his promise, Cassie is forced to accept they’re not inevitable after all.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angst Words: 1,505

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7: Storms and Safe Harbors. Time to reset the clock and reach a reconciliation.

A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge using May challenge prompt "promises." I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 46, prompt 2.

Part 1: Cassie

Part 2: Ethan

The last few weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for Ethan Ramsey. Between resetting his relationship with Cassie Valentine and instantly regretting it, his mother’s return from the void and clashing with his father over it, things started spinning out of control faster than he’d anticipated.

And then he almost Cassie to a freak accident and had to stand back and watch another man take care of her the way he couldn’t or wouldn’t allow himself to.

Ethan wished he could forget everything from the last few months and feel like himself again. He was too old for drama and jealousy, especially when he was the one to end things. Calm and in control. That’s who he was and what he needed to be as Doctor Ramsey.

He loved being a doctor. After completing his fellowship, he made a conscious decision to remain in a teaching hospital. He was more interested in research, but teaching was a requirement of his chosen career path. He could handle it in small doses.

So, when his colleague at the university asked him to fill in at the last minute for a week-long seminar on diagnostic medicine, Ethan agreed before he could think twice about it. It served two purposes — making a serious dent in the hours he was required to teach and getting away from his troubles for a few days.

A win-win situation as far as he was concerned, he thought as he neared Edenbrook around ten o’clock at night.

It had been a long week, and he should have just gone home after the faculty dinner. Instead, he parked his car, hiked across the breezeway connecting the parking structure to the main hospital wing and took the elevator to the seventh floor.

The hallways were quiet and empty, with the strong scent of ammonia in the air. The floors were recently polished, and he figured the nightly janitorial crew was done on this side of the building.

His steps faltered as he approached the Diagnostic Team office. The lights were on, and he spied a familiar blonde head through the glass walls. Cassie was sitting at the round table, flipping through what appeared to be a medical journal and making notes on her iPad. He knew she’d taken his earlier advice to heart about brushing up on research and uncommon diseases.

His time in the Amazon had been an experiment of sorts, and the results were in. Everything was clear, logical and monochrome when he was away from Cassie. Being around her short-circuited his synapses, but the world was more vibrant, a fascinating mystery he could spend a lifetime trying to solve and never come close to unraveling.

If he’d lost her last week. If she’d fallen over the atrium balcony before he could get to her. Before he could tell her…. Ethan shuddered at the what-ifs running through his head.

One person shouldn’t have this much influence over him, he thought. He tapped his access card on the reader outside the door and marched determinedly through the sliding doors.

Cassie looked up, startled, her eyes unfocused. She blinked the fog away, a smile spreading across her lips when she saw him.

“Hey, you’re back!” Cassie exclaimed.

“Observant as always, Valentine,” Ethan drawled sarcastically. “No wonder you got the diagnostics fellowship.”

He cursed internally when his acerbic tone wiped the smile away.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, sincere in his apology.

“About?” she said, watching him warily.

“Why don’t we start with my comment just now?”

“I don’t care about that,” she said neutrally, locking and unlocking her fingers. “Sarcasm is part of your charm. Otherwise, I’d worry you’d been taken over by the pod people.”

“It’s still not appropriate for an attending to speak to a resident that way,” Ethan said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the desk.

Her wariness returned.

“Will you always remind me of the difference in our status?” she asked, eyes swimming with emotions he couldn’t read.

“Cassie…” he sighed, unsure what she wanted from him. “Attendings are resp —”

“Responsible for the training of residents, neurochemical responses, blah, blah, blah,” she finished dismissively. “I remember what you said, Ethan.”

“I don’t recall saying blah, blah, blah,” he mused absently, but she ignored him.

“After everything that happened this past year, the promises we made to each other, how can you still believe that?”

“Don’t speak to me about promises,” he hissed, the jealousy he’d tamped down rushing viciously to the top.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Want to tell me about the man you’ve been seeing while I was away? The same one you went on a date with last week?”

“How dare you!” she exploded, pushing the chair back as she stood to face him. “I didn’t go on a date with anyone until after you dumped me.”

Cassie advanced on him, angrier than he’d ever seen her.

“I waited for you, even when you stopped responding to my texts and emails. But I still held out hope,” she fumed, stabbing a finger in his chest.

Her green eyes were fired up, and, this time, he had no problems reading her emotions.

“Am I supposed to keep waiting for you? A man who made it clear I’m so beneath him he couldn’t be bothered to let me know he was alive? Is that what you want? That I’ll beg you, again, by the way, to love me the way I love you?”

Ethan felt ashamed, every barb a direct hit to the heart, wounding his pride.

When Cassie poked him again, he flicked her hand away and hauled her up, his mouth descending upon hers. He poured his frustrations and inadequacies into the explosive kiss, forcing her with his lips to understand him, forgive him.

Rising on her tiptoes, her arms circled his neck, and she plastered herself against the front of his body. She moaned when his tongue thrust inside her mouth, the sound setting off a chain reaction he was helpless to stop.

Ethan slid his hands down to her thighs, gripping them tightly before cupping her bottom. He lifted her, never breaking the kiss, and carried her to his desk, caging her between his arms. She parted her legs, welcoming him closer, her feet locked around the back of his thighs.

He renewed his kisses with a hunger that came from within, from months of abstinence, of denying himself what he deserved. He gently but firmly grasped her chin, tilting her head back, and trailed kisses down her throat.

Cassie gripped the fabric of his shirt, her fingers making quick work of the buttons. His own tore at her scrub top, lifting it up and off, wanting to feel her skin. But the knit shirt she wore beneath for warmth got in his way, and he groaned in frustration, ready to tear the offending piece of clothing.

Desperate to have her, he pushed her back so she was half-lying atop his desk. The hurried movement sent pens, papers, keyboard and other paraphernalia crashing to the floor.

The sound was loud in the silence around them, and it had the same effect as a bucket of ice being dumped over their heads. He froze and stared at Cassie.

Shock turned to regret at the thought of being so out of control he’d forgotten where they were. Fumbling like a teenager, pawing at her with rough hands, uncaring who might see them through the glass walls. The gossip could destroy her reputation for life.

He eased his weight off her and nervously ran one hand through his hair.

“I can't keep doing this,” Cassie said, holding back tears, but he saw the disappointment in her eyes loud and clear.

Pushing his arms away, she jumped off the desk and bent down to grab the top he’d dropped on the floor. She quickly tugged it over her head and down, pulling her hair out from the collar.

Feeling uneasy, Ethan reached for her, only for Cassie to slap his hand away and step back.

���Don’t,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t want you to tell me this was a mistake, that it shouldn’t happen, that we can’t ever be. That you regret us. I can’t….”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Ethan heard her silently count to three, and then her eyes snapped open, full of unwavering resolve.

“Cassie, I—”

“I have to go,” she said, and ran out of the office before he could stop her.

Ethan watched her retreating back through the glass walls, not blinking until even her shadow was no longer in sight. He glanced around the office, the cutter on the floor, her iPad on the table and inhaled deeply.

Her scent still lingered in the air, her taste was on his lips, and the feel of her tattooed on his skin.

Cassie was wrong. It wasn’t a mistake, and he had no regrets. Not anymore.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

[ohallthecrushes]

You're a storm in a teacup and I'm starting to like the chaos.

Soooo... There's a couple of twists in today's episode. I'm a sucker for some cliches as you'll see, but oh well.

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who's just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she's running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she'll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and...love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it's a love story, doesn't mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language... The whole pack. It's Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: She's almost finally where he wants her to be. But the rest of the way they have to go on foot. Holding hands.

Exhaustion crashed over Evelyn. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the endless stretch of road had pulled her into a sleep. In the soft light of the morning sun filtering through the trees, she looked almost ethereal, her features delicate and serene in sleep. He had been watching her for a moment, before finally rousing her from her slumber.

When she finally stirred, disoriented, it was to the sight of Elias leaning close, his face inches from hers, squeezing her arm gently.

"Wake up, Snow White," he murmured as he watched her with an intense look.

"Where are we?" she mumbled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, ignoring his stare.

Instead of answering, he leaned back, his gaze sweeping over the scene before them. They were no longer on the open road. The car was parked at the end of a narrow, dirt path that disappeared into the a deep forest. Sunlight dappled through the trees, casting long shadows. The air smelled like a damp earth and decaying leaves.

Her stomach tightened with unease. A deep forest, miles from civilization, with a dangerous man for company. What had she been thinking, getting into this car?

He seemed to sense her hesitation, her reluctance to venture into the unknown, but he didn't care. He left the car, walked over and reached into the trunk, retrieving a large duffel bag. When she got out as well, he looked at her. "The rest of the way is on foot." he announced, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"Foot?" Her voice rose an octave. "Why? Where are we even going?"

This was madness. Why, why had she agreed to any of this?

He didn't answer. Instead, he did something unexpectable. He walked over to her and took her hand in his in a firm grip.

Before she could protest, he started walking, pulling her along the forest path. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, leaving no room for argument.

"Don't worry, Snow White," he said, his voice a low murmur close to her ear. "You're in my hands now. And trust me, this is exactly where you need to be."

She gritted her teeth, glaring at him. She saw a tiny smirk playing on his lips. How could he take her hand into his as boldly and casually? The audacity of him!

Having her hand inside his, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of intimacy that washed over her. It was unexpected, surreal, and completely absurd given their situation. They were nothing like a couple going for a romantic hike, and yet here they were, hand in hand, walking through the forest as if they were. She felt heat rushed to her cheeks, and she quickly turned her head away so he didn't notice.

She realized that underneath her anger she started to feel something else – a thrill of the unknown, a morbid curiosity and something stupid like... affection. Elias was strong, dominant, and undeniably charming. The way he carried himself, the sharp intelligence in his eyes, the aura of danger that clung to him like a second skin... she couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, despite everything. Damn it. That was the last thing she needed right now.

He glanced at her and noticed her rosy cheeks. He smirked knowing that he was getting under her skin, stirring up emotions she didn't even know she had.

The path stretched before them, leading deeper into the woods. Clearing her throat, she mustered up the courage to speak. "Could you... uh, let go of my hand?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

He raised an eyebrow. "And risk you running away when we're so close to my cabin?" he teased. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Snow White."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to run away," she insisted, though she couldn't quite muster up the conviction in her voice.

"Sure you're not." He said, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly, a physical reminder that he was the one in control. "But just to be safe, how about I handcuff you to me instead?"

She scoffed, of course he'd go there. "As if I'd let you do that."

He chuckled in response. "Who said anything about letting you have a choice?"

Her gaze darted sideways. The amusement he seemed to derive from her discomfort was infuriating. She sighed. "Just keep walking."

So they walked... towards the secret cabin that Elias had mentioned. He couldn't help but glanced at Evelyn. He had always prided himself on being in control, on holding all the cards. It was no different with her. But now, a new element had been added to their dynamic - the touch of her hand clasped in his.

It was a simple act, a hand in hand, yet he felt a disorienting flutter in his gut. Excitement, yes, the thrill of being in control, the unpredictable nature of their situation. But there was something about her that intrigued him. From the moment he had seen her sleeping in the car, the delicate rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability showed on her features, he'd wanted to reach out then and touch her, to trace the line of her cheekbone with his fingers. He had resisted the temptation then, but now that he had manipulated her into holding his hand, he found himself reluctant to let go.

He tightened his grip a bit.

What was it about her that made him feel so... alive? Was it the defiance that challenged him? The desire to have her wriggling underneath his body? Or was it the vulnerability he glimpsed beneath the anger, the sign of loneliness that mirrored a void within him? He couldn't say for sure. All he knew was that being with her, in this moment, brought him a sense of excitement and exhilaration that he hadn't felt in a long time.

The rest of the way they walk in silence. Evelyn feigned interest in the towering trees, all the while memorizing the path. Every turn, every landmark she carved onto her mental map. It could be a potential escape route at the right time.

Around 15 minutes later, the trees parted, revealing a sight that took her breath away. Elias had mentioned a cabin, but this… this was no rustic shack, but a spacious summer home hidden amidst the trees.

She was surprised. This wasn't the squalid hideout she'd envisioned. This was… almost inviting.

"Welcome to my haven, Evelyn." he announced with a hint of pride in his voice. "I hope it meets your expectations."

As they reached the porch, he stopped and let go of her hand, patting his pockets for a key. She stood a step behind him, her gaze drawn to his back pockets. There, outlined against the fabric of his jeans, lay the unmistakable shape of handcuffs. Her eyes drifted to his left hand propped against a wooden railing.

Something twitched in her. Did she really want to stay here in this beautiful and very welcome, yet secluded and isolated house? Alone with a stranger, a dangerous man, no matter how attractive he was?

Not so much.

She bit her lip. She felt a familiar sensation in her stomach of being so close to tricking someone and running away. Sensation like an irresistible thrill that was almost addictive. She had pulled tricks like this before that had given her a rush of adrenaline.

Veeeery slowly, she reached out and snagged the handcuffs. Silence cloaked her movements and he didn't notice. She clamped the metal jaws around the railing and then, in a single, swift motion around his left wrist, securing it with a click.

His head whipped around, surprise giving way to fury as he met her eyes. "Evelyn!" he roared, his brows furrowed.

She didn't waste any time. Two dangers lurked in the back of her mind – the glint of metal that was his gun, and the undeniable fact that he likely possessed a key for those very handcuffs.

She started running.

Adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her forward in a desperate sprint. Her destination was the car. She didn't have time to think it through, but even without the keys she could try to start the engine by hotwiring it. She'd seen it in movies. It had seemed simple enough on screen. Here's hoping Hollywood hadn't lied.

Behind her, a guttural curse echoed through the trees. Elias. A predator frustrated by a sudden reversal of fortune. The thought should have terrified her, but instead, she felt a spark of exhilaration.

Meanwhile, Elias ripped the handcuffs from the railing, the metal clanging to the wooden floor. He felt irritated, he hadn't planned on this afternoon jog. But Evelyn, that infuriating woman, had a knack for running away. Escape was in her blood, he thought, a constant itch she couldn't resist scratching.

Thankfully, he knew this forest like the back of his hand. Hidden trails and shortcuts, invisible to the untrained eye. He wouldn't need the main path, the one she'd likely follow in her blind run. He'd catch her, of course and the sweet taste of victory would be a nice bonus.

Leaves crunched under his boots as he cut through the undergrowth. She might have a head start, but not for long.

Evelyn pushed through the trees and bushes, her lungs were burning, legs screaming in protest. Every jog she'd ever taken paled in comparison to this sprint. Through a gap in the trees, she spotted the car, but as she burst into the clearing, a figure emerged from the trees, cutting off her escape.

He stood there, catching breath, his hands on his thighs. She stopped needing to catch her breath too. She was angry that she didn't make it on time, but this chase wasn't over yet.

"Clever, Snow White," he rasped, his voice laced with irritation but also excitement. "Almost got away."

This wasn't supposed to be fun, not for either of them. Yet, an unexpected thrill ran though his veins as a response to the chase, the danger, the sheer audacity of it all.

He gestured towards the cabin, his voice demanding. "Inside. Now."

She looked around trying to find an escape path. If she needed to, she'd keep running, but she wouldn't be ordered around like a disobedient pet. She shook her head. "Not happening."

[joanquill]

"Yep. We're lost. In the fucking woods."

Number : 26 Character : James Bonde Relationship : Platonic Type : Fluff, Crack Nothing like getting lost in the woods with Bonde! Ty in advance! I really love your writing.

James Bonde

Tag/s: Platonic, Crack-ish

"Well, isn't this just nifty," you deadpanned, staring at the bright blue sky with your whole body hanging on a tree branch and feeling your back about to give out from the force of gravity.

"Haha," Bonde sarcastically mused, grabbing the tree's trunk as he reached for you.

 "Very funny (N/N). Now, grab my hand," he reached out to you, making you turn to him and stretch out your hand, careful not to tip your balance.

"I must say, I haven't seen anyone make a car flip mid-air when as you turn. You're really something, Double O' Seven."

"Should I shake the branch instead and let gravity do the work?"

"Thanks," you dusted yourself off as you and Bonde reached the ground.

"Don't mention it," he reassured, fixing his suit as you both looked at Herder's car you borrowed for your road trip.

"Do you think he'll notice?" Bonde asked as you blinked at the car.

It was hanging between branches with the hood completely popped open, smoke coming out, one of the headlights hanging by the wires, and a tire rolling across you and Bonde.

"I'm sure he can dent it out," you waved your hand, followed by a loud bang from the engine.

"...Shall we walk?"

"Nothing like a little nature hike to calm the mind,"

"How long do you think 'till they notice we're gone?"

"Knowing Herder? I'm surprised we made it this far," Bonde chuckled as he moved away the branches, letting you pass through.

"What? Don't tell me you're scared," he teased, making you scoff.

"Of what?" you taunted, making Bonde shrug his shoulders.

"You don't know, maybe someone or something is lurking in the dark..." he quickly moved to the other side, "...waiting for an opportunity to strike," he whispered, making you roll your eyes.

"We kill people for a living. Some shadows aren't enough to scare me," you denied, making Bonde pout.

"If you say so... But don't come clinging to me if you get scared,"

"Not in a million years,"

"Uh... James?" you called out, staring at the landmark you carved on the tree five minutes ago.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes not leaving the map.

"Are you sure you know how to read the map?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know," you shrugged, "I just think there's a possibility we're... you know..." you shrugged, "The L word?"

"Lesbians?"

"Lost, James. We're lost,"

As you and Bonde roamed the forest, your eyes landed on a dirt path.

"James!" you gasped, shaking his arm as you pulled him to the path.

As you followed the path, you saw a village up ahead.

"Was there a village on the map?" you asked, making Bonde look through it again.

"Doesn't look like it..." he answered, making you hum.

"Let's go ask them for directions," you smiled, marching to the village before Bonde grabbed you by the collar.

"I don't think that's such a good idea..."

"Why not?"

"Have you never read a single horror novel in your life?" he furrowed your brows, making you sigh.

"Then what? Continue to roam the forest until nighttime?"

"So you'd rather enter an uncharted village in the middle of the woods?"

You both stared at each other, waiting for one to give in.

"...Rock-paper-scissors? Whoever wins, we follow and blame for our possible deaths?"

"...Yeah, why not."

[manwalksintobar]

The Season We Danced Alone While Pumping Gas  // Robert Wood Lynn

Virginia, October 2002

Recall the crappy metronome fear made out of the gulps      of the fuel pump, the sniper the news conjured behind every parked car between here & Baltimore,

nobody expecting to outdance the bullet—just relying      on that old hiking joke: a slow enough companion & you don’t have to outrun the bear.

Every head bob contagious, every shimmy from the customer      at the next pump, a challenge we were compelled to accept. This is a dance off now because I refuse

to let someone else’s ducks & sways make my body the path      of least resistance, to let a bullet close the circuit our parents had opened just sixteen years before.

The season we danced alone while pumping gas you stopped      shrugging off the crosshairs: you’d read that when you put bugs in a jar & shake it, they fight each other

instead of the thing that shakes them. Let us fight the things      that shake us, you said. You said if there is someone pointing a gun at us & let’s be clear

there is nobody—statistically nobody—pointing a gun at us      but if there is, are you going to tell them where to point it, to let your body beg shoot them not me?

The season we danced alone while pumping gas, our homecoming      game was played away, its dance, perhaps redundant, cancelled altogether. Ten people died before month-end.

That season, I was still ironing every task of driving into habit,      so even now I find myself sashaying to the pump before I slide the nozzle in & pull the trigger.

[ultimateaclrecovery]

Japan day 7 (11/16)

More Hakone and then Tokyo!

Started by trying to watch the sunrise from the onsen. We mostly missed the actual sunrise but it was still really pretty

We then got breakfast in the room which was this cute little bento box.

We then went back up the ropeway and it was so clear and we got a great view of mt Fuji! One of the legs up we even got a car to ourselves which was cool and the views were great.

We then tried to get a picture with the water Tori gate, but the line was crazy long and so slow moving so we took a quick pic from the side and moved on. But I still got a cute pic by an adorable bridge! Sadly my eyes were closed so you get the slightly blurry Live Photo from when they were open 🤷‍♀️

When we finally made it Tokyo station I got dipping ramen and it was the best ramen I ever had and it was like 7 dollars which is crazy.

I also found this adorable penguin in a Christmas tree which I managed to not buy the first time but then went back later to get it 😂

We then wandered around took in the city views and the lake in park. We got drinks at this adorable owl themed brewery my bf likes and then got dinner and then magi carp custard for dessert

Overly long travel diary

Day 7

In the morning we try to catch the sunrise in the onsen. Official sunrise time is 6:18 and we get down there like 6:05 but it’s already pretty light and not very many fun colors. It’s still pretty tho. A little while later the sky gets some nice pink to it.

After we get all our onsen time in we head back up to the room. We still have like an hour before breakfast and finally get some quality time. I am annoyed by how much better this makes me feel, but here we are.

Breakfast is also a lot of fish and I’m over having food I don’t like.

Sunrise onsen.

Breakfast in cute little bento box.

Rooeway which is extra great because clear day and can see my Fuji.

After breakfast we head back to the rooeway. It’s like 9am so it’s pretty empty here and we get a car all to our selves on the way up which is really fun. It’s a clear day today so we can see my Fuji from the rooeway car which is fun too see. It really sticks out above the rest of the landscape. All of the other mountains are full of trees and green on top and then there’s Fuji looming in the background with its giant snow covered peak.

We also get a great view of the sulphuric vents.

When we get to the bottom we go to hike around the lake to a water Tori gate. Some of our way there is on a lovely path through the woods where you can see the lake. And some of it is along the road where you try not to get hit by cars

Try and take pic with the Tori water gate but the line is too long and moves too slowly. Everybody has waited for a while so they want their full photo shoot and it takes like five minutes per group. We don’t want to wait for a picture for like 45 minutes So instead we just take pictures and a selfie from the side and it’s fine.

As we walk back we do cross a really cute bridge and my bf offers (actually offers! ) to take a pic of me on the bridge. I had been wanting a cute bridge pic so I love it.

And then we take a bus and two trains to Tokyo.

We stop at Tokyo station to get ramen. We have to wait in a line for about 15 minutes. Then we quickly order at the vending machine and are seated. The music playing is very fast paced and it feels like everything is rushed. But it is very efficient. We get dipping ramen Where the noodles are in a separate bowl and are cold, and then you dip into the bowl filled with hot broth. It’s so delicious. Sometimes I don’t get the timing of the dip amount right and the noodles end up too hot or too cold but mostly it’s perfect. Anthony paid on his suica card. Mine was 1040 yen. Which is so crazy cheap for the best ramen I’ve ever had.

After we walk through the Tokyo station character street. It’s filled with adorable shops. I find the most precious penguin stuffed animal that’s wearing a Christmas tree and I nearly die of cuteness. (I don’t get it because I do not need a 30 dollar stuffed animal that will just sit in the pile in my room)

There’s also a bear themed store where I find a bear cutout that can be used to make bear shaped pancakes or omelette a. And at 1300 yen I have to have it.

Hotel

Walk around streets

Laundry

Izakaya for dinner

We head to the hotel to check in and then walk around the streets. I think walking around the streets of Tokyo is one of my favorite parts of the trip. They are all lined with so many little stores and there are just people everywhere bustling about. The streets are all really clean and everyone is really polite. Like the queues for things are always so well organized even when they aren’t marked it’s remarkable.

We do laundry at our hotel and then head out to izakaya, which is a Japanese things where you get drinks and grilled items, small plates style usually for sharing. They typically require at least one drink and food item per person. It’s so weird to me that there are places in Japan that will require you to order a drink. It doesn’t have to be alcoholic but as someone who rarely orders drinks and almost never non alcohol with meals it’s a bit odd to me. It’s usually places that are really busy.

The place we go to seems rather American food themed but all of the other people in there are Japanese and not tourists. Our waiter tho has excellent English. I get a mango beer and Anthony gets about her highball, his favorite Japanese thing. And we get garlic bread and a meat sample plate. There’s way too much food and we struggle to make it through most of it. Anthony keeps pushing for us to eat more because he’s convinced it looks bad or something to not eat most of it or is wasteful. I’ve clearly been spending too much time on the intuitive eating side of Instagram so I’m just like my body is not a trash can. Also if I’m too full for it to taste good why bother eating it? We eventually give up on it and head back to the hotel.

[nightmaresaskblog]

Officially made my first fanfic for the Cursed House AU!

(Apologies if it's bad. This is my first time writing fanfic)

Fanfic is under cut:

Fnaf 4 Cursed House Au fanfic!!

Chapter 1: The House Has New Owners

Despite their father's over excitement about their new home, his 3 children were not as excited as he was. Being cramped with her siblings in the already-too-small car for hours in the heat was annoying enough. They were hoping their destination would arrive soon enough.

"Will your new job sell ice cream, Daddy?" The middle child, Elizabeth, asked as she swung her legs in rhythm to the song that was on the radio.

The father, William Afton, gave a small smile. "It's more of a diner rather than an ice cream shop, sweetie. But there is ice cream on the menu that people can order. You can get ice cream whenever you would like!"

The oldest, Micheal, slumped back in his seat. He hoped Dad would be able to keep his job. The family's life was already hard enough.

While Dad did get a new job in town, the kids knew that wasn't the real reason they had to move.

The passing of their mother was the downfall of the Afton family's life. The trio weren't able to do their best in school with being overwhelmed by grief. William had nearly lost his previous job due to depression.

But maybe this time, it's new. This is a fresh start, for a chance at a new life. The children didn't mind moving away from their old town (aside from packing everything into boxes and hauling them to a moving van, which took days).

They didn't have any friends back home. Micheal was ignored by the other teenagers, Elizabeth was seen as a bother, or way too annoying, and Evan, the middle child, was always scared of everything and never spoke because of it.

Kids would constantly ask Evan, or Lizzie or Micheal why Evan would refuse to speak to anyone, or cry all the time.

Evan would constantly never go anywhere unless someone assured him it was safe.

Evan would refuse to leave his bed for fear that there were monsters out to get him.

No matter how much his family assured him that everything would be okay, Evan's anxiety would say otherwise.

With their mother dead, Micheal knew there would be no end for Evan's crying.

"We're there, kiddos!" William cheered.

The three kids perked up and darted their heads to the view of the house.

It was an ordinary house at that.

It was placed on a hill, surrounded close by trees that they could be waiting to swallow you whole. The yard enveloping the structure was tended so often that there was not a single weed in sight. It seemed structurally sound and well built. Their old house sounded like it was going to collapse any minute.

Their new house seemed welcoming, yet there was something... Odd about it. It was placed so randomly in the middle of nowhere that you would have to walk for miles before reaching civilization. Micheal hoped there was a town close by.

"Dad, how old is this house? It looks really new."

"A couple decades old, at least. The previous owner basically gave the house away! Quite the bargain, if you'll ask me!"

The car pulled over to a stop in the gravel filled driveway, and the family of 4 exited the vehicle they were all cramped in.

"I'll help the movers carry our belongings in the house. Why don't you three explore the yard?" William suggested. He turned to the workers. "Please be careful with that! That's an expensive piece of equipment!"

"Okay!" Elizabeth cheered. "Come along, Sparky!"

Their dog, a beagle, had sprinted over to the woods, eager to stretch his legs from sitting in the front seat.

Micheal glanced over at Evan, who was stumbling along, hugging his golden bear plush for dear life.

"What's wrong, Ev?"

"There's no path in the woods..."

He darted over to the entrance of the woods, and he was right.

There didn't seem to be a clear path that could be a hiking trail. Instead, all it had were bushes and logs, obscuring whatever lied beyond it.

"Well, as long as we go in a straight line, we'll be fine. We can just turn back if something happens." Micheal reasoned.

"But Dad said we could only play in the yard! Not in the woods!"

"The woods are an extension of the yard. So it's still our yard. I'm going in, whether you like it or not."

Micheal wandered into the wilderness along with Sparky and Lizzie. Evan, not wanting to be left behind, followed them.

"I wonder if we'll be able to build a treehouse like we had at our old house?"

"Well we're gonna need a good tree!" Elizabeth walked over to a thick tree and tapped it. "Is this good enough?"

"I don't know. They all seem really high up." Micheal glanced upwards at the evening sky above them. He couldn't see much of the sky due to the trees' leaves obscuring most of the sky. He walked over to a tree and started climbing.

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm climbing a tree, duh. I want to get a better view of this place." Micheal glanced at his palms, which were now red from grasping the tree branches. He looked to the North and saw something... White?

"Hang on, I think I found something," Micheal began his decent down the tree, doing his best to avoid falling to his doom.

"W-What did you see?" Evan nervously spoke out.

"Stay here for a bit. I'll be right back."

"What if you get lost?!" Evan protested.

Micheal took off his gray sweater and tied it around the branch of the tree. "If I get lost, I can find this." He took a stick and dug an arrow in the dirt pointing the way back.

"Don't worry, I won't go far. And once I find this landmark, I'll come back."

"Now you two stay here. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Okay Mikey!" Elizabeth waved.

The teen followed north, trying to find that object he spotted at the tree.

As he moved farther in, thorns and branches poked at his pants. He hoped that none of the various plants were poison ivy.

Compared to the lawn at their new home, the woods were mostly untreated, as they let mother nature do what she wants here.

Behind the bushes he found a glimpse of white. He found what he spotted.

He pulled the bushes away and gasped in terror.

He had to take a closer look before realizing what it was.

A skull laid there half buried in the dirt, possibly being revealed by erosion and time. Various ants were crawling around it, in and out of the one eye socket that wasn't buried in the ground.

Shaking, Micheal used his foot to dig around the skull, checking if there was anything else to reveal. The skull had revealed to be extended to a snout.

So it wasn't human. That made Micheal breath better, even though it was still terrifying. It was probably a deer slain by nature's cold hands.

He wanted to give it some sort of comfort, so he scooped up some dirt to fully bury the skeleton, as if to give it a final resting place.

Wiping his hands of the dirt, he started heading back.

"You're back! And alive!" Elizabeth cheered.

"You sound surprised."

"Well, duh, we were worried! Did you find what you were looking for?"

Micheal's throat tightened. He didn't want to tell Evan or Lizzie about the skeleton.

He forced a smile. "It was my eyes playing tricks on me. I didn't find anything."

"Aww. I thought we could find a portal to another world. And we would become famous for it!"

"Well, there's no portals," Micheal tugged his sweatshirt free from the tree. "Come on, let's get out of here."

The boxes were put in their respective place, though it would take about a day to unpack everything.

"Your stuff is over there. I didn't place them in any rooms yet so you 3 can choose your own rooms." William explained.

"I call dibs on the middle room!" Lizzie called out.

"You can't call dibs on a room, Liz!" Micheal argued.

"Oh yeah? Watch this!" Liz trotted over to the room she wanted and pushed her respective box into it.

"There! My stuff is in it, so I get this room!"

William chuckled. "I didn't expect this to turn into a competition of sorts. Evan, Micheal, what room will you two choose?"

Micheal shrugged. "I don't really care much about it. I'll take this one." Micheal double tapped the door leading to his room.

"Alright. Evan, your room is over to the right. Is that okay with you?"

Evan nodded.

"Alright. I'll help you move your toys and belongings into it."

Evan's room was the weirdest thing about the house. It was large for a bedroom, maybe it was intended for it being a master bedroom. There was no light switch or lamp at all, so the only natural light would be from the right hallway, since it had a window. But even then, it wouldn't let light in. But that wasn't the most weird part.

His room had two doors. The hallways were the exact same, and both sides had mirrored the other.

After the moving was done, Evan was left to unpack his toys alone. He arranged his toys in the closet, which he had no intention of using. It was far too large, and the rack was way too high for anyone to hang their clothes up. He may was well just use it as a storage space.

While Evan was tending to his bed, he heard footsteps come from behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he tried not to panic. He grabbed his flashlight and slowly made his way to the closet.

He held out his torch like a weapon to defend any sort of thing that was hiding in the shadows.

"BOO!" The entity burst out the closest, hand ready to strike, wearing a.. Fox mask?

Evan tumbled back a few feet, eyes already filling with tears. He laid on the floor, expecting it to tear him apart.

Instead he heard... Laughter?

The thing was now giggling joyfully. "Oh man, you should have seen your face!" The thing took off the mask, face red with sweat.

It was Micheal! He should have known it was him.

"That wasn't funny! Y-you scared me!" Evan tried to shout in an intimidating voice to stand up for himself, but couldn't stop his voice cracking.

"Oh come on, it was just a joke!"

"It wasn't funny..."

Micheal scoffed. "You're no fun." He grabbed the fox mask and stormed off, leaving Evan alone.

Evan held his Fredbear plush tightly. He heard a voice of comfort.

"Tomorrow is another day."

[vodid]

Hey, dream pal again….

I am okey, sorry if the “worst week of my life” coment freaked you out, im cool.

I did walk through a forest, but funny enough I had walked in it many times irl and was around said forest when the dream happened, so I just assumed this is why I dreamed about it. I was with Jazz there and here is were I lost the short guy and found “you”... I wasnt sure about the oak trees since I am not a fauna guy but after looking up how they look, huh, guess what? there were in the dream too.

One of the things that really haunted me about the dream is that I know and I have been in all the places of said dream while awake… Even the store you drew has a strong resemblance to a store I know, but again… no mural which I find so intriguing.

I do remember talking to the girl I found while Jazz was still in the store. I don’t remember much of the conversation besides comments on Jazz, the death environment and someone saying that it was going to be okey (I trully don’t know who said that). I remember getting angry, but not the reason why I got angry.

The dream doesn’t end in the store for me. After the store we hit the road, and I sat on Jazz’s passenger seat as I looked out of the window, I wasn’t alone in the car, and I know more than one person was on the car, but I dont know if it was the same girl from the store. I know they *looked* white (it could be the cappibara lady, who knows), but we where quiet all the way.

In the dream I knew there had been an apocalypse and I knew Jazz was the only Autobot I could find, but I was also aware (to a small degree) that is was a dream. Who knows maybe this is why I got angry when we left the store.

This is so freaky… The dream doesn’t end on the road either, at least not for me (who knows, maybe the car passenger NPCs logged into a different server)… But after that I was alone.

I have to ask, in the forest did you happen to see other animals (a mule/ donkey)? or a small cabin?

Dude Imagine I end up finding the other people in the dream… that would be, creepy ngl.

The dream pal,

- R

i'm happy to hear that! <3

oak trees are pretty common but they felt very prevalent enough in the forest i walked through that it was worth noting. usually, where i live, they're a bit more sparse and mixed with tons of other trees.

and before i continue, this got EXTREMELY long and detailed so i'm placing everything under a cut hsdfsdfs

the forest in my dream was one i walked through many times irl too!! it was heavily based off the forest right behind my house at first, which has a small creek in it (that's where i started off in my dream actually. went into my backyard, saw a capybara and followed her into the forest) but the path and size were different, both much larger. the path went straight instead of turning left, there were more slopes around it, a thicker canopy, and the creek i passed through was further in and running perpendicular instead of parallel (it was more reminiscent of a wider part of my creek downstream, but the location was all wrong) there was also a small hill just before or right after the creek. around that point, it melded with a different forest i've walked through only a few times before: the forest behind my high school, which had a mf maze for its trails that we hiked on a few times and a very large river in the deepest part, to the left. the desire path i walked on in the dream was a lot more like those ones. perhaps, if you were the girl, you walked on a different trail until we bumped into each other? (tho i don't particularly remember there being any forks in the path)

the supermarket was a lot like a regular ol walmart but it doesn't particularly remind me of any i know. most walmarts here are part of a strip mall/near one and i don't remember if there were rly many other buildings in the plaza from my dream. probably all got destroyed. not sure, the details of the plaza are fuzzy besides a very, very dusty and crumbled parking lot. very large lot, but i'm not sure how large, and how much had dirt and grass had grown over it

the mural i'm sure is something straight out of horizon forbidden west. there are holograms in the game of the heroes of the apocalypse? called "ten." the holograms had a couple graphics that the mural was most likely based off of, mainly the orange and yellow background (stole this pic from ign)

after seeing the mural, jazz didn't move or speak in the rest of the full dream. he just sat on the rubble next to the mural. i would've loved to have hit the road lol but i guess he needed time. i really wish i remembered more about what happened towards the end, but i do know that, alongside the worry and the sympathy, there were feelings of dread and a slight urgency. we weren't in active danger, but we could be. that place was abandoned for a reason. (it felt as though jazz was the one in danger, but he found the girl to be in more danger than he was. classic guardian syndrome i guess LOL)

that's so wack tho. we both in some way knew we were dreaming (usually i am not aware of that in mine) and everything i bumped into was some amalgamation of a place i have been to before, even if the general area was a bit more rural than where i live lol there wasn't a cabin tho. mainly just feelings of there being stores and more houses (i live in the suburbs) around us. the houses kind of had the feeling of... being very recently built or still under construction? obviously they're not new now but back then, before the apocalypse, whenever that was, they would've been brand new. not sure if that's an important detail lol

i don't remember bumping into any animals besides the capybaras and maybe a chipmunk or squirrel but i did collect vegetables/fruits?? there were like. bright red tomatoes, cabbage and fresh peaches i picked up from around tree trunks (reminded me a lot of things like breath of the wild) and i tried to give them to the mother/child to help them, since it was clear they were looking for food, but the mother did NOT trust me. she didn't want to be near me and i'm not sure why i kept following her. she looked like she felt a bit uneasy around me as she did not speak english at first, so it was easy to misunderstand my intentions

anyway i decided to give the general area of my dream a go, so let me know if anything in it reminds you of something. it's hard to nail every detail exactly, since you know how dreams like to do good ol switch-a-roos on things but this should be at least a little true to my dream

it's very possible the forest trail was longer but i do not have a solid concept of the time i spent on it. mainly just the beginning. also not sure if jazz and the woman appeared before or after the creek. it was a very shallow but wide stream (honestly i do not remember really walking through it. i just remember seeing it but i KNOW it ran through the trail) anyway, don't be fooled, this whole place i drew is MASSIVE. imagine it's close to a mile long from top to bottom. the forest was huge, the parking lot was huge, the area beyond (north-northeast) was huge with powerlines that felt like they ran parallel to the street but looked like they went perpendicular ...not sure how that worked. they had a field with lots of overgrown tall, dry grass tho

either way, i hope something looks familiar! dreams are so weird with how much context they can provide without needing to actually see it? so i hope you can trust my word on this lol i built purely off what i remember feeling in my dream. and honestly, if i had to say, definitely felt like that sort of area would've had a donkey LMAO or maybe more so deer, but i did not see any nor feel any from the given context

also wondering, how tall are you? and a little more obscure, but do you own or have owned any shirts like this? it's a regular long sleeve, waffle knit shirt with some sort of magenta heather pattern (thanks google for making me have to draw it)

it's probably not important but thought to ask anyway on the off chance you do

[lvh-short-stories]

Path of the Luminaries

The leaves fell, blanketing the celadon grass in patches of gold and crimson. We focus on a girl named Wey, as she sits on her bed admiring her room filled with the pursuits of privilege. Her birth and attributes opened all doors, all that was required was for her to do the math. Yes, a doctor for the rich and powerful, that would be her path.

To prepare for a fall party, this girl went with her mother to a salon for a haircut. Distracted by a vocal client, the stylist made a mistake. The start of it, her mother’s assertiveness to cut Wey in line over a balding woman. Still, why should that woman care about losing her place, as she was losing hers anyway. Most importantly, Wey mutters, “Why ruin my day?” Regardless of the intention, Wey’s hairline was marred, and there was nothing the stylist could do except to even it out with the rest. It was that balding woman’s fault–no, it was the negligence of the stylist; And, to rub salt in the wound, her mother still left a tip.

The worst was to come; her mother left for a last minute surgery, and her father stayed behind at the office. To sum it up, Wey was home alone on the greatest night of the year. Wey stews, “They both knew about this for weeks, why did they not plan for this?”

While her father specifically stated that Wey couldn’t go without an escort, the girl went anyway. Wey dressed in her costume of an affluent doctor and left her family home. On reaching the nearest bus stop, Wey tries to board a public bus. After all, being among the feeble-minded was a small price to pay to be with her illustrious friends later.

Before she boarded the bus, she saw the balding woman from the salon in the Driver’s seat. Afraid, Wey backed out, and fell on her back on the wet prairie grass. The Driver came down, offering her hand. Making paltry excuses, Wey turned away the assistance and ran home.

Moving along, Wey notices the pieces of dead grass alongside mud that now stained her white lab coat. The summation, her night was ruined. Suddenly, a crumpled flier catches her eye, a rarity for such a pristine neighborhood.

Wey picks up the flier, and glances over it. The highlight, a bus tour through an autumn valley. She scoffed at the idea, “Who would go on a bus tour during the middle of fall?” After she rose, she crushed up the flier and threw it away into her family’s garbage bin.

With nothing else to do, Wey enters her house and goes up to her room. Upon entering her room, she slams the door, barely missing her soiled lab coat, its echo reverberated through the empty house. Unbuttoning her costume, she threw the dirty thing into the laundry bin and dressed for bed. That done, she collapsed onto her bed and fell into a deep slumber.

During the night, Wey heard a car horn. Ignoring it, the horn blew again, and finally on the third honk she got up. Instead of her own bed, she found herself on a bench in a first-class bus stop. Her night wear is gone, replaced with a hiking outfit. Rising slowly, Wey looks out the windows and spots a pair of bright lights.

Curiously, Wey rises and exits the bus stop. Parked before her is a lavish bus, similar to those commissioned by idols. On the bus’s side, in silver letters reads, Branch. Looking up, she notices the moon stands at its zenith. Not knowing what else to do, she goes up to the bus.

A pair of well-dressed attendants come down to her. The woman with the jumpsuit bore a badge marked, “Security.” The other attendant, a man wearing a formal suit, held a clipboard; his tag read, “Tour Guide.” The tour guide told Wey that she was on the list. She scoffed at the idea, but the man shows her his clipboard and Wey notices that not only was her name on the list, but her own signature was written next to it.

Frightened, Wey backed up, but then she saw her friends waving at her from one of the bus’s windows. The tour guide says, “Do you trust us?” Waving to her friends, Wey nods. The man offers to help her up into the bus, but she dismisses the offer, preferring to ascend alone.

Boarding the bus, Wey sees that the bus driver is the same balding woman from earlier. Terrified, she backs up into the Security Guard; the puzzled guard looks around Wey and smiles. She says, “Do not worry, that’s only the Driver.” Keeping her distance from the Driver, Wey boards the bus and sits with her friends in the back.

Wey inquiries on how her friends came to be there; her friends relate that the bus had arrived at the end of the party. Her friends continue by saying, “Seeing all the luxuries, who could say no.” The friends then ask, “Wey, why didn’t we see you at the party, and what did you do with your hair?” The bus began to move, interrupting the discussion; Wey breathed a sigh of relief.

The tour guide starts the presentation: “Esteemed guests, you are up for quite a treat tonight. An autumn tour of many wonders awaits, culminating in a picnic party, the Feast of the Stars. Hosting the event is our marvelous, Provider.”

Continuing, the tour guide says, “At the end of today’s feast, each of you will return safely to your homes in time for school with a stellar souvenir for your efforts.” With that statement recited, the dawn light came, illuminating verdant meadows dotted with trees bearing leaves of vibrant yellow, orange and red, all to contrast with a vivid pink sky above spotted with the occasional cumulus cloud.

The first stop on their journey was a gilded mall called Vainglory Vestures. On entering, each child was given a camel pack. There, she and her friends found a near endless array of seasonal outfits with accessories galore; best of all, free. While her friends depart for the costume shop, Wey spots a salon and decides to go in. There, the stylist promises to regrow her hair. Wey thinks, “What did she have to lose?” Wey takes them up on the offer. After sitting there for several minutes, not only is her hair restored, but it’s longer and more luxurious than before.

Overjoyed, Wey rejoins her friends at a costume shop. Her friends are already dressed in outfits of a politician, warrior, magician, and explorer. Not wanting to be left out, Wey chose a doctor’s costume. With these and other lavish costumes available, she was surprised to find the other attendees chose more mundane outfits–plebeians, all of them.

The road dips as the bus reaches its second location. Standing tall in the azure sky as far as the eye can see is an enticing tower. The bus begins to slow down. Struggling now, it finally stops as one of its tires drags in the mud. Wey comments to her friends, “Vexing, but what did one expect from a fall tour?” The tower lies just a few hundred feet away.

The security guard calls for everyone to get out and push; the girl and her friends ignore the attendant. The security guard comes up to their clique to inquire on their tardiness. One of her friend’s interjects, “Our talents are better used elsewhere.” The security guard shrugs and says, “Suit yourselves, but please stay away from the Erudite Tower.”

While they waited, one of her friends bet Wey couldn’t climb to the top of the tower. Not wanting to risk her pristine white lab coat, Wey refuses. Her friends then berate her for her fear and laziness. They then hint that maybe she was too frightened to come to the party the previous night because she tried and failed to cut her own hair. With that, Wey leaves alone to ascend the tower.

Wey enters the Erudite Tower. The ascent is easy; the staircase keeps climbing, each step easier than the last. “I’ll reach the top in no time,” Wey mutters. Suddenly, she gets a tug on her coat’s sleeve. Turning back, she notices no one there; instead, Wey notices that the ground is further away, but the distance to the tower’s apex is unchanged. “It’s farther than I thought.” Wey rationalizes. 

She goes further up the tower, and gets another, more insistent, tug on her sleeve. Looking back, there is still no one there, but while the distance to the top is still unchanged, the ground is even further away. Growing fearful, Wey turns around and starts descending. While the climb was easy, the descent is hard and gets harder still with each step. Panicking, she pushes her legs to their limit, but her progress goes slower still. 

Turning to one of the tower’s open windows, she spots her friends far below. Wey shouts, but as soon as she utters them, her words turn to jargon; concluding Wey is just showing off, her friends ignore her and return to the bus. Exhausted, Wey collapses onto a stair and falls asleep.

Moments later, Wey awakens with the bus driver bracing her under her shoulder. Instead of being grateful, Wey is miffed and struggles away from the Driver. Unfortunately, a moment too late; her friends, seeing Wey’s distress, laugh at her.

Wanting to escape her embarrassment, she walks around the bus. The security guard then stops her, pointing to the group pushing at the back of the bus; no excuses forthcoming, Wey reluctantly helps the others to push. On the final heave, the bus’s tire is dislodged, but while the others celebrate, Wey slips into the mud and stains this fine white lab coat too.

Wey boarded the bus. Mud dripping from her coat’s hem, her friends spot her and laugh even louder. Self-conscious, Wey tries to cover the imperfection. Suddenly, the bus driver comes over to Wey and starts wiping the muddy spot on her lab coat with a soiled cloth. Wey shoos the Driver away in disgust; looking down, Wey notices not only is her lab coat dry, but the spot too is gone.

The Driver bows and returns to her place. Wey turns away from the Driver, and takes her seat alongside her ridiculing friends. After a while, her friends finally divert to a different topic, and Wey is lost in their witty banter.

The next stop is a souvenir shop called Terra’s Treasures. Dolls, games, and novelties to brag about one’s travels are pleasantly presented. Each item begging for a spot in her room and, once again, free. Her friends depart with dozens of treasures. Not wanting to be left out, on exiting, Wey grabs a cute stuffed animal dressed as a doctor. The other children, though, drop off their keepsakes–philistines.

The bus then stops at a fair called Falstaff Fair. At the entrance, each child is given a large bag, partially filled with treats. On entering, alongside the rides, Wey spots many stands each with their own unique delights, and all colorfully packaged. Yet, despite how appetizing their appearance, taste or smell, the treats only left her wanting more. On exiting, she grabs a goody bag to snack on later. Outside of her and her friends, the other children’s bags are not only less robust than theirs, but seemly have less than they started with–more for us.

Finally, the bus reaches the end of the line, a dark wood. A narrow trail leads further within whose sign reads, “Tribulations Trail.” The tour guide ends off by saying: “The promised feast awaits you all at the end of the path. Follow the lights left by those who passed before.” The security guard interjects, “While it may be difficult at times, please stay on the path!” Of course, most of this advice was lost due to her companions’ litany of complaints.

As the rest of the children enter the woods, Wey’s friends ask her to stop for a moment. One of Wey’s more cunning friend’s concludes, “The two attendants just want to trick us, there must be something secret, but wonderful, just a bit off the path.” Remembering the tower, Wey counters, “I think we should listen to them.” With false smiles, her friends agree.

Entering the woods, the path becomes narrower and Wey’s friends grow more impatient. Suddenly, the path’s slope quickly rises. Wey’s friends decide to go off the path to find an easier route around; they invite Wey to join them. Even when shown to the contrary, Wey still trusts her friends, and so follows them.

As they go further from the path, the lights dim as the foliage grows more dense; Wey grows afraid. Suddenly, her persuasive friends say: “Wey, why don’t you scout ahead. After all, successful people lead–cowards follow.” Wey decides she will show her friends her worth.

Wey goes further off the path and suddenly falls down a small crag. At the bottom, she recovers. Wey looks up and sees that her friends, merely an arm’s reach away, chuckle. Wey asks for their help, but her friends shake their heads. Wey begs and her friends just laugh. Her friends mockingly say, “Foolish, Wey, she just can’t measure up.” That said, her friends turn their backs on Wey and head back to the forest’s entrance. Wey is left alone.

Wey shouts, but no one hears; the rest of the kids must have gone ahead. In desperation, Wey walks around. The further she goes, the darker the path becomes. About to give in to despair, Wey spots a pair of lights in the distance. Walking further, she comes upon the tour bus, empty. The lights were emulating from the bus’s headlights. As she watches, the lights drift away from the vehicle, leaving it darkened. Wey follows the lights with her eyes as they divide into motes, creating the boundary of a path. Seeing no alternatives, Wey treads upon the lighted path.

Following the lights, Wey leaves the bus behind to arrive upon a staircase. Wey whispers to herself, “Finally, a way back up.” Wey climbed it. On reaching the top, she notices that she is back on the narrow path. As she looks back, the previous lighted path fades, the last remnants of the bus lost. This leaves Wey only two choices: to go forward towards the unknown, or try to follow her friends towards the familiar. Deciding to show up her so-called friends, Wey proceeds further down the path.

The narrow path ends at a black pit. A bunch of stepping stones bridge the gap. Looking into the distance, Wey sees some of the less affluent children jumping between the stones towards a bright light in the distance. Not wanting to be shown up by these indigent kids, Wey follows suit.

Each leap is greater than the previous one, and the light in the distance grows dimmer too. To add to the difficulty, Wey’s pack, while heavy to begin with, weighs more with every jump. On the last leap, Wey just barely makes it onto the platform to meet an unassailable cliff face. On the wall, Wey notices the passage forward is only a hole much too small.

Inspecting it more, Wey concludes, she cannot possibly take her stuff with her. With that determination, Wey inches back. Suddenly, her foot slips, and the heavy pack drags her into the pit.

Later, Wey awakens on a bed of trash and finds her costume sullied again. Scared, she tries to ascend, but the slope is too slippery, and her pack continues to pull her back. Looking around, she sees no exit. Suddenly, the wind blows and the trash begins to move, Wey cowers and closes her eyes.

Moments later the wind stops, Wey opens her eyes to a makeshift sturdy stairway of not trash, but newly minted articles; each object carefully placed next to the others with only the barest of seams. Again, seeing no other option, Wey ascended the stairs.

At the top of the substitute stairs, Wey finds, to her dismay, that the edge is just barely out of reach. Suddenly, a hand reaches down; Wey overjoyed, grabs it. Looking up, she sees the hand is not a hand at all, but an amalgamation of trash resembling one; attached to that faux hand is a further composition of rubbish in the likeness of that distasteful Driver. Disgusted, Wey lets go and falls. When she gets a hold of her senses, she finds herself farther from the top than before. Wiping her hands on her pants, Wey looks up. The dross figure jumped down after her.

The Dross Driver offers her hand, the girl refuses it; so old, crumbled and dirty, it is not the hand of a peer, but a servant. The junk woman offers it again, and Wey slaps it away, dislodging it in the process. The Dross Driver, not even acknowledging the loss, points up with the remaining stub. She then beckons for Wey to follow. Wey, struggling a bit, rises on her own. 

Keeping her distance, Wey follows the Dross Driver back up the stairway. At the edge again, the Dross Driver, seeing Wey’s dirty clothes, wipes them again with a dirty cloth from its mass. Wey grits her teeth and bears it. 

Confirming the clothes are clean once more, the Dross Driver gets onto the cans composing its knees, offering Wey her backplate as a makeshift stair. At first, Wey is hesitant, but seeing no other way to exit, she takes that step; her solace is that at least only her shoes will be soiled now; once secured, the Dross Driver slowly pushes Wey to the top. Within reach of the ledge, Wey grabs it and hoists herself out.

Wey impatiently beckons the Dross Driver to follow; the Dross Driver shakes her head. Suddenly, the ground begins to shake, the stairs break apart, and the Dross Driver falls, with the trash, past the bottom to even deeper darkness below.

Wey panics, then settles. She mutters, “She was just garbage anyway…maybe, I’ll just remind the staff to pick her up later. Yes, that is what I will do.” With that pale rationalization, Wey turns around. At the top again, Wey still faces the same small crawlspace–this needle’s eye. Hesitant, but still wanting to see the next stage. Wey reluctantly opens her pack; she starts with her goodies, letting them fall into the darkness.

She tries again to fit into the hole, but it remains impassable. Wey then rids herself of her stuffed animal alongside her pack, letting them both fall into the abyss; it is still not enough. Finally, Wey rids herself of her costume and with that burden gone, she fits cleanly into the crawlspace, but her long hair still temporarily catches at a few points.

Exiting the crawlspace, Wey finds herself in a dark cavern, the path of lights continues before her. Not wanting to admit defeat, Wey continues. As she walks deeper into the cavern, the lights one by one dim and go out. With the last light extinguished, Wey is blanketed in darkness. Wey tries to run back, but can’t find the exit.

In panic, Wey runs around, and promptly trips over her own feet in the darkness. In desperation now, Wey reaches out. Suddenly, her hands fall upon a warm texture–it is fur. She lifts her hand back in fear and disgust. A large nose brushes up against her shoulder, and a gentle breath rustles her hair. Wey feels around, and ascertains the creature to be some kind of horse, only smaller, a pony perhaps, though, the ears are longer and the tail is not quite right. 

Her hands find the beast’s short mane and grab it tightly. While the stress on its hair must hurt, the creature ignores the pain and slowly leads Wey through the darkness. After a long trek, or maybe much shorter, a light appears in the distance at the top of a final narrow stairway. The beast turns and gently pushes Wey forward. Wey abandons the animal without a thought. She goes up the steep stair towards the light; the beast remains below.

At the top, the pale light dazzles Wey as she exits the cave. She then whispers, “What is this place?” Around Wey is a dry cold prairie surrounded by fog; the long withered grass is interspersed with brown and black leaves; a large slab of flint sticks out like a monolith from a dry spring’s bed; As for her path, it ends at a small hill with a long dead tree standing at its apogee. Wey mockingly exclaims, “Is this the Feast of the Stars that was promised?” In despair, she walks up the hill. 

Beneath the tree, Wey spots a rabbit without hair. Shivering, the rabbit looks up. Wey, disgusted, averts her eyes. Then the rabbit murmurs, Wey continues to ignore it. Finally, the rabbit seems to cry. Feeling empathic, but still not wanting to touch the unclean thing, Wey looks around; she sees nothing to ease its chills.

Suddenly, she spies a pair of small old scissors in the grass. Picking it up, she looks at the hare without hair. As she fidgets with her long hair in thought, an idea comes to mind. Wey starts to cut her own hair. While the action is physically easy, it is mentally onerous. At first, just wanting to take a little off, Wey stops. She thinks, “That length wouldn’t cover it.” That thought in mind, Wey raises the blades further up her own mane to the length from the previous debacle yesterday, but again, Wey concludes, “It is still not enough.” Finally, the blades of the scissors come to rest at a point closer to her scalp. At that point, Wey cuts, and her hair falls.

Pocketing the scissors and grabbing the separated hair, Wey uses parts of it to tie the rest into a makeshift blanket. She covers the pale form. As she does, the hare’s chills cease. Looking deeper, she thinks, “From a different angle, it kind of looks like a…” The leaves rustle nearby, interrupting her thoughts. Wey turns around. Seeing nothing, Wey turns back. Not only is the hare gone, but so is her hair.

“It’s all gone!” Wey exclaims to the void. Turning around, Fey looks at the desolate scene. In defeat, Wey places her back against the dead tree, and slowly slides down. She comes to rest on the dry grass. Humiliated, cold, and alone, Wey hugs her face to her knees and sobs.

Suddenly, the tour guide’s words come to mind, “Do you trust us?”. Wey then hits upon an idea. Wey closes her eyes. Long minutes pass with no success. Near giving up, Wey remembers the empty bus, its lights illuminating her path back. Then her mind drifts to the Dross Driver, her crumbled but kind hands, miraculous cloth, and sturdy back; finally, she remembers the feel of the animal’s fur and how it led her through the darkness. Putting all this together, she remembers that all of them stayed behind so she alone could finish. With that thought, Wey felt ashamed. Realizing that, instead of dry crackly grass, Wey feels silky smooth stalks beneath her fingers.

Opening her eyes, Wey gazes over a pristine scene. Her eyes drift over the green meadow around her. Clean water runs in steady rivulets to end at a curtain of leaves that encircles the entire scene. Looking up, Wey sees the dead tree behind her is restored, a willow tree in its prime; its branches, like tresses, obscure her view further.

Suddenly, a bell rings, its sound emulating just beyond that willowy veil. Rising, Wey slowly walks to the edge. Reaching out her hand, Wey parts the willow’s leafy branches to reveal a serene scene. The bright green meadow interspersed with wild flowers continues to the distant mountains, which are met by a bright orange sky which crowns their peaks. As for the water’s origin, in the place of the flint monolith, a wellspring head stands, its cool and abundant waters flowing out like a fountain. Finally, despite her previous observation, the path is not at its end, but continues into the distance, begging to be trodden–someday.

Her eyes come to rest on a long circular picnic cloth with many children in bright white clothes reclining on it, all friends. Thinking their clothes are peculiar, but beautiful, Wey looks down at her own and finds them transformed to something equally pure; the tint of white of her clothes even surpasses Wey’s white lab coat from before. Also, while the previous lab coat would stain with the earth, Wey senses that this one will only grow brighter with each ordeal. The other children welcome her to take her seat.

Reluctant, but very famished, Wey takes her seat on that picnic blanket to enjoy the small, but fulfilling, feast of manna delights and sweet milk. She gets a pull on her white sleeve. Turning back, she sees the Driver kneeling there, even more repulsive than before. The Driver bows further, offering Wey’s previously discarded pack filled with her treats, stuffed animal, the doctor’s implements, and her hair. About to snatch them back, Wey stops.

Instead, Wey puts her hands on the drivers. Wey then says, “Thank you, but I do not need them.” Then, Wey looks around, seeing no spaces, Wey offers her own. The joyous Driver drops Wey’s stuff, which fades away upon touching that emerald grass, to take Wey’s proffered place. Wey turns around to leave.

The Driver then asks Wey to take the seat next to her. The girl turns around in frustration, saying,  “There is no more space.” Wey then sees an adjacent place set, complete with all the fixings. Also, instead of the distasteful Driver, a beautiful woman sits there with long silky hair, interlaced within are motes of light like pearls; a modest azure dress drapes over her form. Wey’s eyes ascend and come to rest on a circlet of chrysanthemum, further highlighted with evenly spaced roses–the steadfast Provider.

Wey, realizing her mistake, says, “Sorry, madam, but I don’t deserve any of this.” The woman says, “How is that so?” Wey replies, “For my mistreatment of you, my pride, and for my failure to help you when you needed me the most.” The woman smiles and says, “It’s alright. As the one who blessed and forgave me, by his boundless mercy, so too are you forgiven!” Wey weeps in the woman’s lap, and the woman strokes Wey’s remaining hair, which is restored now to its previous day’s modest length. Suddenly, Wey hears shouts in the distance. The Provider asks Wey, “Would you please attend to the gate?”.

As Wey circles the hill, she spots a pasture gate on the other side; several figures stand outside it. Reaching the gate, Wey finds her wayward friends escorted by the tour guide and security guard. The Provider asks, “Wey, what would you do in my place?” Initially, Wey thinks to punish her false friends; then her mind drifts to forcing them through the same or greater ordeals; Wey shakes her head. Her anger passes. Silently, Wey opens the gate and beckons all to enter.

The Provider comes up to stand behind Wey. Wey shivers thinking she did something wrong, The girl turns around and instead of seeing a stern woman standing above her, Wey feels wet warm drops, like rain, dampening her feet. Looking down, she finds the woman on her hands and knees weeping, not in distress, but in joy. The other children cheer and the grass of the field bow.

After the cheers cease, the Provider rises and smiles. The woman says to Wey, “A boon is granted, not for your sacrifices, but for your trust.” The girl thinks hard, and then asks for a lock of the woman’s hair. The Provider smiles, she beckons to the scissors in Wey’s pocket. Wey hands them over to the woman. With a quick cut, a lock of the Provider’s hair falls, a star born in its place. The woman says: “While a single hair will snap under the smallest of efforts, a strand of hair together is stronger, if you make it into a braid it is more durable still, and knotted–adamant. On the inverse, no matter how wide the strand, if one neglects the smallest of members, the whole, loses out as well.” The lady twists the lock into a braid and provides the first knot for the present. Kneeling, she wraps the braid around Wey’s ankle as an anklet.

The Provider looks up to Wey and says, “I give you of myself, as one gave to me, and one day you too will provide for others–a gift without end.” The ritual completed, Wey and the Provider return with all the others to the picnic feast. That passed, all took their seats. The woman walks away to speak with each of the other children in turn.

Wey is left with her friends. The friend’s trappings are gone, replaced with the same pure garments as Wey’s own. Wey apologizes to them, and they return the sentiment. With that passed, Wey and her friends laugh together, and enjoy the rest of the feast. The sky turns purple, the stars appear, but the light isn’t lost.

Finishing her rounds with all in attendance, the Provider gathers everyone together in a circle. The woman says, “While all of you leave many things in your wake, remember, a single good deed or gesture is a light for those that follow, and theirs, in turn, extend the path further.” She rises and walks down the remaining dark path. Each step she takes leaves a trail of lights in its wake, like stars in space. Beckoning all to follow, they join the Provider in a dance; each of their footsteps create their own stars to join with countless others, extending the path further. Each new set of lights makes the trek easier for the next generations. While their combined lights are great, an even greater light shines at the end of the path, beckoning all home.

Before Wey and the rest go too far, a gentle wind picks up, caressing the Provider’s hair. The woman leaves off, “The feast has come to its end!” All walk with the Provider back to the lighted ground. Suddenly, the tour bus drives up. No longer luxurious, it instead resembles the public bus Wey tried to board from that night before.

As all the children gather onto the bus, one of the other children asks the Provider, “When will we see you again?” The Provider smiles and says, “At the table with our friends, and the Friend of Friends.” The woman continues, “For the present, you must continue your journeys, but know that you are not alone on this path. Now, I’ll see you all home.” With that, Wey and the rest board.

The Provider takes her place again as the Driver. All are silent as the bus starts to move. Looking out the windows, Wey sees the sky turn to a vibrant pink with the dawn’s light. Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness overtakes Wey and the rest. The gentle bus transports all of them home.

The next morning, Wey wakes up in her own room. She spots her bed’s blankets and pillows upon the floor. Thinking it was all a dream, she rises out of her bed. Upon opening her bedroom door, a few strands of hair fall out upon the floor. As she gets down, she first thinks they were merely caught on her clothes. She picks them up. The feel of the hair evokes the memories of the Provider and all your friends. Carefully pocketing the strands, she heads downstairs.

At breakfast, her mother exclaims, “I was just about to go to the salon and reprimand that stylist today, but now that I can see your hair in the dawn’s light, I truly believe it suits you.” Wey nods and then shows the strands to her parents. Instead of the silky hair, they see only strands of long dead grass. The father snatches them away from Wey and tosses them out the window in disgust, “Wey, don’t bring filth into the house!”

Wey rushes out the door to go to school. Thinking the strands are lost, she sighs; then her eyes widen as she sees them caught on a tree branch. The girl reaches up and loosens the strand. Remembering the previous night, she twists them into a braid, and, instead of one, adds two knots this time; finished, Wey ties it around her ankle. 

Down the road, the girl sees her friends going to school and joins them. On reaching them, she presents the anklet. Her friends, confused, say nothing. Wey, sensing nothing forthcoming, turns away from them.

As Wey walks, she glances back. Her friends are the same distance away. Thinking she imagined it, she continues; her friends’ distance has not changed. Wey laughs and welcomes her friends to walk with her. All gathered, they set off towards school, together.

In time, the many-knotted anklet is lost. Wey’s friends depart to take their own paths, but Wey, now a woman, meets all expectations of her. Yet, instead of taking the pristine white lab coat, which is hers by right of honor and merit, takes the worn scrub. In the years to come, as she cuts the hair of her patients, a duty few of her colleagues relish, Wey’s too is cut, the excess, gifts to the forgotten. This is the path she provides for others, as others will provide their own, till one day, Wey, and all others too, will meet the Provider again at the table of the Friend of Friends.